Marionette
by Mistress Of The Macabre
Summary: Sasori of the Red Sand is one of the most revered and feared puppet-masters in existence. But now, it seems, he wants to add to his collection. 'She would make a beautiful puppet, one worthy of his collection…in time.' Rated M for major dark themes.
1. Prologue

That night, the snow fell and fell, writhing in the wind, eventually coming to rest on the ground, where it collected in a white heap. The girl, staring into the white sky, began to grin as the snow swirled all around her, and, as she stood there, in the cottony field, someone began to approach her. She turned, and grinned, as her brother joined her in staring up at the sky. Snow was new to them, something to be adored.

Unbeknownst to the happy siblings, something lurked within the shadows, something that watched them- the girl in particular- with eyes that could not see and yet _were_ seeing. The something watched as the girl began to dance, her lean, gracious body writhing in the swirling snow.

Something creaked within the shadows, and the eyes that could not see followed her every move. Inside the darkness of the Hiruko puppet, something stirred. And grinned.

She would make a beautiful puppet, one worthy of his collection…in time.


	2. The Gingerbread Girl

**Chapter One: The Gingerbread Girl**

She was running again. _Where _exactly she was headed, she hadn't the faintest idea. All she knew was that she had to get _away. _

God, she didn't want to see Sasori again.

Even if it meant she'd be running forever, she would do it if it meant never having to see _him _again.

At sixteen years of age, Naomi Tanaka had a lean, gracious body; mainly because of her running. She was very good at it. Even before 'all this' had happened- and she refused to delve deeper into 'all that', mainly because it _hurt _to remember all that, and she didn't want to think of that, not when freedom was so close- she had taken up running after her little sister (it was now always 'little sister' now, not Momoko) had been ravaged by a bear, and Naomi had had no choice but to flee. Since then, she had ran. And ran. She was by no means as fast as a kunoichi, but for a civilian of Kusagakure, she was good- very good.

But would she be able to outrun Sasori of the Red Sand?

She didn't like her chances.

As she crept through the forest that surrounded the place where Sasori held her (like a pet, she thought bitterly), she made sure to make no noise. Of course, since she had little to no training as a kunoichi, if she came across Sasori, she wouldn't be able to fight back, not in the way that she would like. Running away was the only way Naomi knew how to fight back against the man who had completely shattered her life.

She picked her way across the soft, green grass, taking care not to tread on anything that may cause her harm. She did so for two reasons; firstly, because she was on the run from Sasori, and she didn't want to be caught; secondly, because she wore no shoes. As Sasori's latest 'pet', she had to follow his rules, and one of those rules was to cease wearing shoes- or anything that might make his job of 'breaking her in' even the slightest bit more difficult.

Her toe connected with something hard. And sharp. Looking down, she saw that she had stubbed her toe on a small, pointed rock, and that blood was already blossoming there.

Naomi sniffed, willing herself not to cry. If she could manage that, then that would be another small victory, another small defiance against the immortal puppeteer. Her chest heaved, her small breasts jostling slightly with the motion. As a 'model for eternal beauty', Sasori had dressed her as he would dress all his other puppets: simple robes that were the colour of wine, or, as Naomi thought, blood. Underneath, she wore basic garments, such as underpants and shorts, even a basic black undershirt, but no breast band. That was Sasori's decision, and although Naomi had protested against this, she knew by now that when the puppet-master decided something, that was exactly what would happen, and there was no possibility of it being subject to change.

The wind sighed along with the young girl's muffled sobs. Her hair, so deep brown that it was almost black, ruffled in the breeze. Surprisingly, the cold sigh of air was like a slap in the face for the girl, who hastily swallowed the rest of her sobs, and tugged the robe tighter around her small, delicate body. As Sasori had said repeatedly, her body was not immortal like his, it was tiny and delicate, and it was subjected to the elements. Compared to her master, she was weak. She had to protect herself as best she could, if she was to truly escape her prison this time. Swiping viciously at a few traitorous tears that still lingered on her face, Naomi bolted, knowing that with every passing second, _he _was getting closer.

Her eyes, ringed in red from her tears, were a deep, passionate green- the same colour as the world she was currently immersed in, and trying to escape from. She pushed on, hastily dodging stray objects, making sure not to trip and fall- any more injuries would only slow her down more, and she could not afford that.

As she ran, an unwelcome memory rose to the surface, bubbling with malicious intent; preoccupied with fleeing from her master, Naomi could not halt its' steady approach, and it came, hard and fast and with no mercy:

_Snow was something to be revered, and adored, for in Kusagakure, the village hidden in the grass, snow was something only heard of in stories- it was rarely, if ever, seen in reality._

_Naomi and her elder brother, Yasuke, seized the opportunity when it arose. As soon as they saw the first flakes fall, they hastened outside, revelling in the sheer beauty of it all; their world had transformed from a lush, green forest, into what literally appeared to be a white wonderland. Covered in snow, even places that were familiar appeared new and fascinating to the villagers, and they delighted in bathing in the white. _

_Naomi, filled with wonder, had begun to dance, writhing joyously in the swirling snow. Yasuke, amused, watched her, his normally intense face softened by laughter. As she danced, Naomi became aware of a presence; it raised the hair on the back of her neck, and her stomach felt queasy. But when she turned, there was nobody there, only Yasuke, watching her. _

_Dismissing the uneasiness, Naomi continued to dance, unaware that her brother was lying dead in the snow behind her. _

_When she eventually came upon her brother's body, laying dismembered in the now-crimson snow, she began to scream. Again she got that feeling, the feeling of being watched, and, certain that it was the same person who had murdered Yasuke, Naomi ran, intending of alerting her parents, but, when she came across their home, she found her mother's throat had been cut from ear to ear, and her father torn in two, severed by a blade, the scream that had been blasting from her throat halted. Her parents were dead. Who could she tell? Everywhere she looked, it was bodies and blood, blood and bodies. Even the photographs of Momoko had not been saved. The glass was broken, the photograph itself smeared with blood. Naomi, feeling severely lightheaded, picked up the photograph, and stared at it, the reality of what she was seeing not really making sense to her just yet. She was in shock. _

_Still seeing without really seeing, the girl wandered outside, still holding the photograph of her dead sister. _

_A shrill tingle of a bell sounded, beautiful, yet also deadly. _

_Naomi turned, to see the hulking form of Hiruko watching her. _

Sasori had been struck by her physical maturity, the way she carried herself even when grieving, and he had decided that he wanted her. He abducted her, and Naomi Tanaka became a prisoner, a 'model for eternal beauty', as Sasori called it.

Since then, Naomi had had to endure some of the worst torture imaginable. Not so much as slave labour, or anything even remotely similar, but rather, she had to endure being sexually assaulted. Sasori called it 'breaking her in', in preparation for 'eternal beauty', but, no matter what he called it; the end result was the same. He was raping her.

The first night, Sasori had tried to get her to relax to his advances, but, with the disturbing image of her dead family's faces planted firmly in her mind, Naomi couldn't. She just couldn't.

This man- if such a monster even _could _be called a man- had abducted her to a dank, dark place, murdered her entire family, and he was trying to get her to perform in a number of sex acts that revolted her.

Unperturbed by her defiance, Sasori forcefully took her virginity by attaching chakra strings to her body, like a puppeteer would do with a marionette, therefore forcing her to respond to his touch, even though tears were coursing down her cheeks the whole time while he had his way with her.

Afterward, Naomi was distraught. She felt dirty, contaminated; the whole experience with Sasori had _hurt. _She had discovered, much too late, that his way of immortalizing himself included turning himself into a puppet, and, as she had discovered, his puppets were made of _wood. _

She hadn't been able to walk properly for days afterward.

So now, attempting to flee from her captor for what seemed to be the sixth time, Naomi picked up her pace, knowing that unless she managed to escape from the forest soon, she would be found by Sasori, or another member of Akatsuki.

She hated the Akatsuki. Sometimes, when she smelled particularly foul, Sasori would take her out, and tend to her basic needs, such as bathing her and feeding her. That in itself didn't sound so bad, but the walk to the room in which he did all this was pure torture, because she had to pass the other Akatsuki members. She hated it. They openly stared, watching her every move. Some of them, like Deidara, weren't so bad, but there _were _bad eggs in that bunch.

Naomi sniffed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she did so. If all went well, she would never have to see Sasori or the Akatsuki ever again.

As another cool breeze breathed into life, Naomi shivered and pulled the hood of her robes over her head. She would take any and every precaution she could to make sure she wouldn't be caught again.

**XxX**

Deidara looked into the room that, until very recently, he and his Danna had shared. It was small, as were all the rooms that all Akatsuki members were assigned, with two single beds pushed together, to form a double bed. The sheets were rumpled, and, although barely a month had gone by since Danna had acquired his new 'pet', already it seemed that Deidara had never occupied the room, that it had always been Sasori and his 'models for eternal beauty'.

There was no-one there.

The blonde-haired man sighed. It was always like this.

Whenever Sasori no Danna went away on a mission, he, Deidara, was meant to watch over whatever pathetic skank his Danna had chosen to 'break in', and this latest bitch had done a runner.

Again.

Deidara knew she wouldn't get very far, but he was sick of chasing after her and bringing her back so his Danna would be none the wiser.

Closing the door gently, the young Akatsuki member felt around in his pockets to make sure he had an ample amount of detonating clay handy, and, once he was sure that he had enough, he set out to retrieve Naomi Tanaka.

**XxX**

She ran flat out, her crimson robe streaming out behind her, almost like an absurd red dress. Her hood was thrown back against her shoulders. Her feet ached from running at such a fast speed and for so long, but she gritted her teeth and continued on. She was out in the open. She had to keep running, because at this moment in time, she was vulnerable.

And that was not a position Naomi Tanaka liked being in, not when freedom was so close.

There were some tall mangroves ahead. She made a beeline for them, knowing that any other cover was too far away, and that she could not possible make it there before she got caught. At least if she hid under the mangroves, in the water, she had a chance to wait out whoever was pursuing her if she took shelter under the niche the mangroves provided. Not caring if her clothes got wet, she dove into the niche between the thick roots of the plants, and drew her robes around her body, ignoring the fact that she was now submerged in water up to her waist.

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, her body aching from all the running she had done.

She sat there quietly for a time, waiting for her breath to return to normal. However, that was not the only thing she was waiting for.

She was waiting for Sasori to appear.

All was silent. All was still.

Then, suddenly, a bird screeched, eerily close.

Naomi, startled, floundered around in the freezing water for a few moments before the sound of flapping wings sounded. Hastily regaining her composure, Naomi fell silent, and peered up at the sky through a gap between the roots.

What she saw made her blood run cold.

A gigantic white bird, made entirely of clay, was circling the area where she was hidden.

Almost as if Deidara knew _exactly _where she was.

"Shit!" she whispered, and immediately covered her mouth afterwards. If she truly wanted to escape, she had to get around Deidara, and for her to do that…

She swallowed tightly. He was nowhere near as twisted as his partner, Sasori, but Deidara certainly wasn't stupid. If she wanted to sneak past him, she would have to do so quickly. And quietly.

She shrank back into the darkness as the clay bird swept over her clump of mangroves, its' broad wings nearly touching the ground. The bird was so close that Naomi could see Deidara clearly, perched on the back of the bird, his long, blonde hair fluttering slightly in the breeze, his face furrowed in concentration. Underneath that long fringe that covered just about half of his face, Naomi knew that he wore a scope that enabled him to see across distances that would normally defeat lesser humans.

Getting around him would be no easy task.

Making sure to make no noise, Naomi slowly edged herself out of the water, cursing every tiny noise she made. Every noise she made was a risk.

As the gigantic clay bird arced around, its' controller's back to Naomi, that was when the girl made her move. She leapt out of the niche with speed that surprised even herself, and she ran, her soaking wet robe making slapping noises against her frigid body.

She had to move. And fast.

"THERE!"

She cursed silently. She'd been spotted.

Nevertheless, she pushed herself harder, sprinting with all the strength she had left.

Behind her, the sound of wings flapping grew louder. He was gaining on her.

Gritting her teeth, steeling herself not to look back at her pursuer, she continued running.

Deidara laughed. Naomi felt fear creep into her heart. He was enjoying the chase. He knew that she would not get away.

At this point, she had nowhere to hide. She could only run.

Soon enough, it seemed that Deidara tired of chasing her. The clay bird swooped in front of her, blocking her movements with ease. She screamed in frustration, and struck at the bird wildly.

She didn't even come close to hitting the terrorist bomber. A smirk twisted his lips, and the bird's wings closed around her, preventing her from running away in another direction. "Why do you fight me?" he asked her, condensation radiating from him in waves. "You and I both know you have nowhere to go, hm."

Naomi scowled. She had been captured.

Again.


	3. The Price of Losing

**Chapter Two: The Price of Losing **

As soon as the two of them had reached the Akatsuki base, Naomi was quickly ushered into the room that she was forced to share with Sasori. "Don't try and escape again, hm," Deidara warned her, as he shut the door behind him. She stared back sullenly, knowing that, once again, she had lost.

All she could do now was wait; wait to be tortured- _violated. _

It wasn't as if she'd tried to get out of being raped another way. She'd tried _everything. _She had even tried cutting her veins open with a discarded kunai knife, but she'd been spotted, and Deidara, her guardian of sorts when Sasori went away on a mission, had been reprimanded.

And now, when she had tried absolutely _everything _she could possibly think of, Sasori was one step ahead of her again. He had removed all sharp, jagged, and hard objects from the room, and had even padded the wall, so she wouldn't try something silly like smash her head against the wall- not that she had thought of that.

There were no windows. The door was being guarded by Deidara.

All Naomi could do now was sit- and wait, wait to be tortured, to be ripped apart, again and again.

She shuddered.

**XxX**

Outside Sasori no Danna's room, Deidara let out a sigh of relief. His Danna would be none the wiser that his whore had tried to escape again, and that was a good thing. The last time Danna had found out that Naomi had escaped, he'd been furious- and Deidara had been the one to take the full brunt of it, although the girl's screams had kept everyone else awake as well later that night.

So it was a very good thing that he, Deidara, had managed to retrieve Naomi before his Danna had returned. Another good thing that had happened was that Deidara was also the only Akatsuki member present at the base- well, apart from Leader, of course, and he wasn't going to report anything, he hardly ever came out of his room- and so Naomi's escape had gone unseen, for once.

The terrorist bomber grinned.

He had done his job well.

And now, all he had to do was wait for his Danna to return.

**XxX**

The Hiruko puppet moved at a pace that was slightly faster than usual, its' joints creaking almost loudly and ominously as it approached the base.

Inside the darkness of the puppet, Sasori's lips curled into a smirk, and, with a jerk of his finger, made the puppet move even faster.

He had been away from his Naomi for far too long, and he longed to be with her now. To see her soft flesh moulded against his own wooden body…he could not say precisely what it _felt _like, considering he had immortalized himself over two decades ago…but the sensation that he _sensed _he should feel certainly satisfied his needs.

For a time, anyway.

The absurdly young-looking puppet-master chuckled to himself, a deep sound that burst from his mouth almost eagerly. Had anyone been listening nearby, they would have been shocked that such a sound could come from such a young-looking boy.

For some reason, that thought irritated the puppeteer. He flexed his hands, causing the chakra strings to waver slightly in the darkness, and his impatience grew.

He yearned to rip his little 'model for eternal beauty' to shreds.

**XxX**

Sasori didn't have to wait for long.

Soon, he was inside the Akatsuki base, and making his way towards the room that he and Naomi shared- a room that, until very recently, he had been forced to share with the Iwagakure terrorist bomber.

To his relief, the terrorist bomber in question was leaning against the door to Sasori's room, humming to himself quietly.

Upon seeing Sasori's arrival, the younger man straightened. "You're back, hm," he said, bowing his head respectfully. Since Sasori had beaten him within an inch of his life, Deidara had stopped boasting about his ludicrous 'art', and had started treating Sasori with the respect he deserved. If Sasori looked closely enough, he could still shadows of the bruises of Deidara's last beating.

The puppet-master hid yet another smirk.

"Yes," he rasped, still clad inside Hiruko. Then: "There were no problems, then?"

"None, Danna," Deidara said smoothly.

"Good," Sasori murmured. "Leave me, Deidara."

The younger shinobi, undoubtedly glad that he had escaped a thrashing, did as he was told, casting a brief glance behind him.

Sasori entered his room, and there she was…his model for eternal beauty.

Naomi.

Her face paled when she saw the Hiruko puppet standing before her.

Something about that made him snap, and, as she stood up, presumably with the intention of fleeing, chakra strings attached themselves to her arms and legs, effectively preventing any movement. She whimpered, undoubtedly wanting to struggle, but unable to.

Lazily, Sasori shed his outer shell, letting the Hiruko puppet fall off of his body. When Naomi saw the expression on his face, she began to moan in earnest.

He was grinning as he climbed on top of her and got to work.

Her body quivered in revulsion as he ran his hands over her slim body. That was good. He _liked _her to fear him. It gave him a sense of immense power, one that he could exert to any limit. If she failed him, then that would be of no fault of his own- quite often, he found that humans failed simply because of the _terror _they faced, not the act itself. Naomi, he mused to himself, as he continued to touch her shuddering body, had lasted longer than most. There was something about her that was different from any other human wench he had broken in so far. He could not pinpoint exactly what it was, and really, he didn't care, either.

As long as she lived, her screams would be his lullabies.

Figuratively speaking, of course, because he couldn't sleep, but if he _could… _

He grinned wider.

**XxX**

Naomi shuddered as he continued to run his hands over her body, his smooth, yet somehow _rough _hands pushing her robe up almost rudely, and tugging impatiently at the cloth underneath. She desperately wanted to reach up and strike the demon that held her in the face, with a well-practised punch, but she knew that it was impossible. Even if the chakra strings had not been present, she knew that she wouldn't be able to hurt Sasori.

He was made of wood, and a simple fist to the face wouldn't do jack-shit to him. She knew that. She knew it, and hated it, because her only option was to lay submissive beneath him, and hope that he wouldn't hurt her too badly.

Tears began to well, as her underpants were ripped from her body, and his hands were now so far up her robe that, had anyone walked in, he looked like he was prospecting for gold. She wept, as he groped greedily, and it _hurt, _but there wasn't anything she could do to stop it.

Wait. That wasn't quite right.

She could _scream. _

Perhaps it wouldn't do anything, as she had discovered that some of the other members of Akatsuki _liked _to hear her scream, _liked _to know that Sasori was getting his way.

Then again, perhaps someone- Leader, for example- could come in and demand that he, Sasori, stop it- the screams-, as it was disturbing whatever the hell it was that Leader did.

But no, that wouldn't happen, would it? Leader had been the one to recruit Sasori in the first place.

Naomi squeaked at a sudden twinge of pain, and then bit her lip, fighting back a scream. A scream might help her…but it might not, as well. And it gave Sasori the pleasure of knowing that he was hurting her.

So she wouldn't scream.

She wouldn't scream.

_She wouldn't scream._

Another particularly hard jolt of pain, and she whimpered, biting down hard enough on her lip so that it bled. Redness swelled steadily from her split lip, trickling down her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut. Soon enough, it would all be over.

Wouldn't it?

What Sasori did to her body then was so painful and obscene that, despite her will not to, a scream made itself known, a high-pitched keen of absolute pain and terror, so loud that surely everyone in the Akatsuki base- Leader and Deidara- could hear her fear, her agony. Something warm was trickling down her thighs, and she wondered sickly whether Sasori had cut her deeply.

Another scream was ripped from her chest, as something hard and rough- his finger, probably- jabbed inside the cut, peeling apart the lips of the cut, so that more blood oozed from her body. She screamed again, so loudly that she rather felt that her throat might tear, and the room tilted wildly. She felt nauseas, light-headed- _faint. _

As the cruel, yet undeniably smooth hands moved to cup her face, and his lips, cold and yet somehow warm at the same time, brushed against hers, the room spun wildly again.

She struggled to regain her focus, but darkness, first a pinprick, then an ever-growing, ominous circle, began to dominate, and soon, the blackness had obscured her vision completely, and she fainted, sinking into the black cloud almost eagerly.

**XxX**

When she woke, he was inside her, a sadistic, almost hysterical, smile on his face. He grinned as he raped her, 'broke her in.'

Naomi was so groggy, still so light-headed, that she simply couldn't muster the energy, or the will, to scream.

And so ended another day in Naomi Tanaka's life.


	4. Wash Your Sins Away

**Chapter Three: Wash Your Sins Away**

She woke in her captor's embrace, pressed against his smooth body, where she could hear his heartbeat. It seemed unfeasible that such a monster would even HAVE a heartbeat, but yes, there was the constant thudding just below her breasts, and she knew it was not her own, for she could practically SEE the false heart pulsing in the canister that lay in Sasori's chest. She closed her eyes and imagined a blade being driven into that evil, sadistic heart, and a slight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth; that smile disappeared the instant Sasori began to touch her.

His fingers, which could be horrifyingly cruel, were now tender, tracing over past scars on Naomi's naked body, and she knew that he knew that she was awake.

"Good morning, my little beauty," Sasori whispered, his voice still slightly husky with that sadistic lust he had possessed last night.

Naomi said nothing, merely shook her head and stared stubbornly at the wall.

It was always like this. Whenever Sasori had had his way with her, he would feign love and concern for her- only to hurt her even more later on. Last night had been disgusting and horrifying. She had been unconscious for most of it, thank God, but she had not escaped the rape without marks; there was now a large cut on the inside of her thigh, where he had ripped her skin, and then opened the wound further by driving his wooden fingers into the cut, tasting her blood. The bleeding had since stopped (she knew this only because there was no more wetness dripping down her leg- the blood had dried, and she now had what felt like a large crust covering the inside of her thigh), but the wound still hurt. It _throbbed. _

And that was not the extent of her injuries.

The lower part of her body, where Sasori had forced himself inside her, stung and bled lightly and screamed bloody murder. It wasn't nearly as bad as her first time with him, when she had been unable to walk properly for a week, but it was still bad.

He hadn't touched her face yet, thank God, but she knew that part would come soon.

And she also knew that he liked to mutilate faces.

"_Good morning, I said," _Sasori growled, his grip suddenly becoming fierce once more; his hand, on her arm, was like a vice- he could break her arm easily, flawlessly; she could see her thin arm being snapped in two, the flesh ripping, the veins bursting, and the white knob of bone making itself known at the place where her elbow used to be-

"Good morning, Sasori," Naomi squeaked, voice barely more than a whisper.

Sasori cupped her face roughly, so that she was staring him straight in his unusually young-looking face. _"Master," _he corrected her, his brown eyes flashing dangerously.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. "Master," she repeated miserably. This was another thing she despised. Sasori was always referring to himself as her 'master'- and she his 'slave.' But not just any slave: his sex slave.

Sasori released his hold on her. "Better," he said, voice becoming friendly once more.

She refused to play his game. This friendliness was just a charade: as soon as night fell once again, or perhaps even earlier, if he wished, he would become the demon again, the demon, whose sole purpose seemed to be to humiliate and violate her.

So Naomi rolled over to the other side of the bed, ignoring the sudden screaming in her thigh, and ground her teeth angrily- the only response she could safely give without being butchered by the many weapons encased in Sasori's body.

A rush of hot air ruffled her tangled hair slightly when Sasori exhaled. Of course, she wasn't really on the other side of the bed; Sasori wouldn't allow that. She was simply facing away from him, still in his warm but somehow chilling embrace.

He chuckled. "You're quite a courageous girl," he said, "But is that any way to treat your master?" His tone rapidly changed from admiring and friendly, to icy and dangerous.

Naomi did not answer. She could think of a million things she _wanted _to say to Sasori, but nearly all of them would almost certainly get her killed. And she didn't want to die just yet. She had her family's memories to live for. She had her life to live for.

When she did not reply, Sasori's voice became softer- _deadlier. _"Answer me, _slave,"_ he whispered, and although she couldn't see his face, she could imagine it- the unnaturally handsome face turning into a scowl, the intense brown eyes narrowing dangerously. And, throughout it all, the weapons inside his body, churning into place, ready to be unleashed.

So, as much as she hated it, as much as she was sure her family would be frowning over her up in heaven, she whispered faintly, "I'm sorry- master."

It was silent for a few moments, and during which time, Naomi's heart was in her throat, thudding heavily, sure that Sasori could hear it, and was itching to put a stop to it. She dared not to even breathe. Such a move might very well cost her her life.

Finally, Sasori chuckled to himself. It was a joke funny only to him- a demon joke. "You're a smart girl, Miss Tanaka," he said, resuming his tracing of her back as though nothing had happened. She said nothing, and let him touch her without complaint.

They lay there for a few minutes more, Sasori still touching her gently, Naomi suppressing a shudder everything his finger made contact with her body.

Suddenly, Naomi was no longer in Sasori's arms; the puppet-master had stood up, and, with a lazy jerk of his finger, summoned his Akatsuki robes seemingly out of nowhere. He dressed quickly, not once taking his eyes off of his model for eternal beauty.

Naomi both welcomed and repulsed the open air. Her mind and body welcomed it because it meant that she was no longer so close to Sasori, and she loved that; however, she also despised it because it meant that Sasori intended to take her somewhere. If he was going away on a mission, he would summon Deidara, and the terrorist bomber would watch over her, turning away only once to allow her some sort of privacy as she dressed.

But, since Sasori was still present, and Deidara was nowhere to be seen, Naomi knew that Sasori meant to take her out somewhere- probably to be fed and bathed, like some sort of animal. That, aside from the actual rape, was perhaps the worst thing, Naomi thought. He treated her like an animal, no- _a pet. _He fed her and bathed her himself, taking immaculate care of her, never allowing her to do anything for herself.

He treated her like he _owned _her.

And, in a way, he did.

It felt so derogatory, to have something do everything for you, and be called 'slave' constantly.

The walk that led to Akatsuki's hot springs did nothing to make her feel any better, either. Most often she would be forced to follow along in her master's wake, chakra strings attached to her like some absurd lead, and, if she had been bad, the other Akatsuki members would laugh. The blue-skinned one, the grey-haired one with the glasses…

Naomi whimpered as her sheets were drawn back suddenly. "Get up," Sasori ordered, voice still traitorously kind. Naomi began to persuade her body to cooperate, when a bolt of pain hit her hard and fast and without mercy; the result was not quite a scream of agony. Pressing her hand to her thigh, Naomi realised that her cut had torn open.

In that moment, she also realised that she was being far too slow.

Sasori forced her out of bed, _making _her body move despite the pain using his favoured chakra strings, and once she was out of bed, he fetched her clothes for her; they lay in a tattered heap on the floor, where his own cloak and pants had laid only recently. Ignoring her feeble protests, he began to dress her, pulling on what was left of her undergarments, and then placing the torn red robe over the top of her bruised, battered body. He stood back, and inspected her; he nodded his approval.

"We'll get you some new clothes," he assured her, mistaking her whimper of discomfort as concern for her torn clothes- she was in fact more worried about the rest of the Akatsuki seeing her more or less naked- the robe was far too torn up to be considered proper clothing.

Naomi gulped, forced to stumble along in her master's wake.

He must have known that she still felt woozy, and was therefore unable to walk on her own, or perhaps he just like torturing her- her body moved, and even though Naomi was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, a result of her once- again bleeding thigh, she was unable to stop.

Feeling humiliated and awkward, she followed Sasori unwillingly, making a beeline for the hot springs. The rooms beside hers and Sasori's were empty, the doors wide open. Miscellaneous objects littered the floors, and Naomi sidestepped them, at one point narrowly avoiding having the flesh stripped from her foot by a carnivorous plant.

As they drew closer to the main room in the Akatsuki base, the sound of chattering voices steadily grew louder. The whispering ceased (from Deidara, at least) the moment Sasori appeared in the doorway. Today was a good day; the entire Akatsuki were not yet present. Deidara was there, along with the orange-haired, piercing-clad male known as Leader, and two more people that Naomi recognised: a tall, blue-skinned man known as Kisame Hoshigaki, and a shorter, paler young man with piercing black eyes, whose name was Itachi Uchiha. These four men watched Sasori and Naomi cross the room almost warily- Naomi noticed that Deidara hurriedly shoved the clay spider he had been sculpting back into his pocket.

Now, Naomi didn't know much, but she could tell when someone was afraid.

And oh, Deidara was certainly afraid of Sasori- the fact that he was hiding his creations from him proved that much.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Sasori impatiently tugging on the chakra strings- she stumbled and almost fell. Leader and the others watched without comment, but their eyes never left her, emotionless and yet somehow mocking at the same time.

Burning with humiliation, wishing she could cover up her exposed body, Naomi was led to the hot springs, where she was promptly undressed. She wondered dully if Sasori was going to have his way with her again, but thoughts of that vanished when he placed her in the boiling water. Her body screamed at the sudden touch of hot water, yet, at the same time, she welcomed it, letting the hot water wash over her skin, calming her slightly. It was something her mother used to do when she was upset. She would run her a bath, and let Naomi soak in it for as long as she desired…

Naomi sighed, closing her eyes- a motion that Sasori allowed. The Akatsuki member was standing beside her, restricting her movements lazily, but his eyes watching her intently. With her eyes closed, Naomi could almost forget that he was here.

_Almost._

Sitting in the boiling water, her thoughts began to drift. What was the use of boiling water, according to some religions? Was it not used to cleanse body and soul, and wash your sins away?

She lay back slightly, letting the water consume her. She had never been a particularly religious person, but now, sitting here in the water, she could just imagine the hot water cleansing her body, revitalizing her soul, washing not just her sins- but Sasori's as well- away.

At least, that was what she imagined, before Sasori came towards her with soap and a sponge. She tried to break out of his hold, but the chakra strings held fast, and she was forced to sit there, as he began to lather her in soap. It did not feel unpleasant, but she could not say that she was enjoying it, either.

The sponge slid over her slim frame, coating her in a layer of soap, gently wearing away the dirt and grime, the crusted blood. When the sponge edged near her cut, she bit back a scream, but she needn't have. Sasori did not go over it with the sponge, but went around it, as though he knew how much it hurt. That surprised her. Usually he went out of his way to hurt her. Avoiding a cut like he did was unusual behaviour.

Wringing the sponge gently, dispersing the soapy water with ease, Sasori began to wash her, getting rid of the suds as easily as he had with the blood. Naomi shuddered, although (and she hated to admit it), it was not entirely out of disgust. The hot water…it was something she missed, and enjoyed immensely.

Once he was satisfied that she was clean, Sasori jerked her out of the water, and began to towel her down. She stood without complaint, letting the wine-coloured, fluffy towel dry her body. Again, Sasori was careful not to hurt her, and again, she was surprised that he had even considered it.

When he was satisfied that she was properly dried, Sasori wrapped the towel around her refreshed body, wrapping it so that it hung off of her like a dress of sorts. Staring at the ground throughout the entire duration of this process, Naomi looked up when she could not feel his hands on her body, to see his observing her quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Stay here," he ordered, soft voice full of authority. "I'll know if you try and escape again." He left, presumably for some fresh clothes for her.

Naomi sighed. The chakra strings were no longer in place, so she was now free to move her body at will, but…there could be no escape today. The only way she had managed to escape last time was because there hadn't been anyone about. Today, there were four Akatsuki members present, not counting Sasori, and she knew that if she tried to run, one of them would surely stop her. There was no possible way she could avoid them, either; there was only one way in and one way out at the Akatsuki base.

So…she could run, and face not just Sasori's, but the rest of the Akatsuki's, wrath, or…she could stay where she was.

As much as she hated it, she knew that it was in her best interest for her to stay where she was.

So she sat down, her body trembling slightly, and tried to ignore the pain in her leg as much as possible. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember what it had been like back at home, when her mother had run her a hot bath…she could remember the weightlessness, the sheer tranquillity of it all. That had been a good time- a _happy _time.

But, as she heard Sasori's increasingly loud footsteps growing closer, she was reminded that those times were behind her now. She had literally been thrown into a horror of sex, slavery, and blood, all in one night.

Letting a small sigh get past her lips, she could feel Sasori's penetrating stare, and she knew what he wanted. She opened her eyes, and stood up, wordlessly indicating that he should proceed. She would have liked to dress herself, but of course, that was not going to happen.

**XxX**

He immobilized her with the strings of chakra, knowing that she wasn't going to try and run away, but liking the thought of having her helpless, even if all he was going to do was dress her.

…_For now._

He grinned.

He got out her undergarments, and she stepped into them. He then dressed her as she had been dressed before- a simple, wine-red robe- the colour of his puppets, his _marionettes. _Of course, she wasn't entirely his yet, but he did like to dress his models this way, to get an idea of what they would look like immortalized, one of his collection.

Once she was dressed accordingly, he tugged her impatiently from the hot springs- there was still much to do before she was immortalized.

She staggered behind him, looking dazed, and- dare he think it?- reminiscent. What was she thinking about? He longed to get inside her head, her pretty little head, and read her thoughts, even just once. He could not say that it would be a fulfilling experience, but it might help him understand her a little better- to learn what terrified her the most, so he could use that against her.

Upon re-entering the main room of the Akatsuki base, Sasori saw that the others had returned. They had been deep in conversation, but when Sasori came into the room, all voices ceased, with the exception for Konan, who was reporting something to Leader. All eyes were drawn to puppet-master and his slave. Deidara was shoving something into his pocket- he had undoubtedly thought that he, Sasori of the Red Sand, had missed it the previous time, but he had not. The terrorist bomber hid his ludicrous 'artwork' in an attempt to escape beatings from his Danna. It usually worked, but this time, Sasori could feel a dark, pulsing anger stir within him. Deidara was still using his art, and that was something he, Sasori, had absolutely forbade.

He let his wooden lips curve into a smile, and, opposite him, he saw Deidara pale at the sight.

That was good.

**XxX**

As Sasori led her away, Naomi felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her head. Moving her head slightly, she saw through the corners of her eyes, that the starer was Deidara, his lilted eyes wide with- was it fear? She didn't know, and Sasori certainly wasn't letting her stick around long enough to find out. With an impatient tug of his chakra strings, she was pulled from the room.

Deidara, however, was not the one that had been staring at her.

In the dark, hidden amongst the shadows, a pair of purple, almost violet, eyes glittered maliciously.

Inside the dark, the man hidden in the shadows began to grin.


	5. Immorality: A message from 'God'

**Chapter Four: Immorality- A Message from 'God'**

The rest of the day passed without incident.

Sasori, having just washed and cleaned his 'pet', had decided that he hadn't wanted to break her in that night- he had, after all, just washed her, and he preferred to not make a trip back to the hot springs so soon.

After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

So, without further ado, Naomi was shoved roughly onto the two beds that they shared, and Sasori stood, watching her with those penetrating brown eyes of his. There would be no sex tonight, not just after washing her. But he certainly did not want to leave such a young, beautiful model for eternal beauty untarnished. To do such a thing would be a terrible waste.

As she watched him warily, undoubtedly wanting to escape, but knowing that she was unable to, Sasori wondered if he should begin preparing her for eternal beauty. He dismissed that thought as soon as it surfaced; he did not want to kill his slave so soon- he was rather enjoying breaking the tenacious and resilient Naomi Tanaka in.

He licked his lips hungrily.

**XxX**

Naomi felt humiliated beyond belief as Sasori stood before her, licking his lips as though he intended to devour her. That thought sent a flicker of fear down her spine, and she shivered, despite having just been in the boiling waters of the hot spring. As a puppet, she knew that he could not truly taste her flesh; with his wooden, immortalized body, he could not truly understand what it meant to taste, to feel: he could only guess at what it felt like. But that did not stop him from raping her, and, as she cowered beneath his intense gaze, she wondered if he was going to force himself on her now.

Surely it would be a waste of time and effort, if he raped her now? He had just bathed her, after all, and to go back so soon after visiting the hot springs…

Not for the first time, Naomi wished she was back at home, where life was much simpler, and everyone was still alive, and sex, blood, and violence rarely- if ever- crossed her mind. She longed for the comfort and safety that only loved ones could provide- not the humiliation and fear that her time with Sasori had forced upon her.

As the puppet-master continued to watch her, she closed her eyes, trying to envision what had once been, and what would never be again. Sasori could try to suppress the memories all he liked, but they were still there, buried beneath the sex and blood. And as long as they were still there, she could remember what life had once been like. The memories were mostly fond ones, and, as she searched through them frantically, as though flipping through a gigantic book of sorts, trying her best to ignore the creak of Sasori's joints as he joined her on the bed, she could picture everything perfectly. It was nearly always raining in Kusagakure, and so the grass was always lush and green- the epitome of perfect health. It was a small village, but that was all right, since everyone knew each other, and the villagers would often get together for festivals, sometimes joining with other small villages to promote peace. That was one of the main focuses in Kusagakure- peace. There were next to no fights, since there were next to no shinobi.

It had been a peaceful place to live- a _beautiful _place to live.

And Sasori had destroyed all of that in an instant, when he murdered her family and took her prisoner.

The feel of Sasori's hands on her body jerked Naomi out of her reverie. She gritted her teeth angrily, pinned underneath the puppet master. He was merely running his hands over her, a most curious expression on his face. It seemed to be a combination of curiosity and irritation- an expression that she had not seen before. She did not know whether she ought to feel safe or not- but then again, could she _ever _feel safe in his presence?

"What are you thinking?" he asked her now, his hands halting in the curve of her waist. They were still fully clothed, so Naomi hadn't the faintest idea of what he was doing.

To her surprise, a spark of anger sputtered into life inside her. He treated her like _this,_ and he wanted to know what she was _thinking? _

It was not like her to cuss, but at that moment, she thought of hundreds of vulgarities she would have used on him in an instant, had he not pinned her underneath him. She took great care in not showing her anger openly, though. She merely sighed and said, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sasori asked softly, leaning in and nipping at her cheek. She winced; she could feel a bruise forming already. "Somehow, I don't think so."

His voice was becoming soft and deadly once more, and just like that, Naomi felt whatever rebellious streak she had summoned up flicker and die inside her. What on earth had she been thinking? She couldn't possibly say such things to Sasori- he would kill her, slowly and painfully. She had heard tales of what had happened to other models that had refused to cooperate. He had pulled the face off one of them, while she was still alive- the woman died without a face. He had dismembered another one, and strung her limbs on the front porch of the family he had taken her from.

And he could do the same to her without breaking a sweat.

Fear rose in her like a great snake, hissing and spitting, and, despite her brief flare of anger, she now felt tears well in her eyes. Sasori watched her, his expression apathetic. "I miss home," she finally whispered miserably, failing beneath her master's glare.

"Home?" he asked her now, sounding genuinely surprised. His hands clenched the flesh of her waist tightly, his nails sinking into her pale skin. She squeaked in pain. He ignored her. "Why should you miss home? You _are _home."

Those words sent a bolt of fear into her heart. To him, the place where she had lived the first sixteen years of her life no longer existed. It was as if she had always been here with him, had always been 'his.'

She had never felt colder than she did at that moment in her life.

"Perhaps you're tired and you don't know what you're saying," Sasori continued on in that soft, deadly tone of voice he reserved only for her and Deidara, "Otherwise, I might have thought you were being ungrateful." His grip on her tightened, and Naomi moaned, imagining those hard, wooden fingers sinking in her flesh, drawing blood. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "And if I thought you were being ungrateful…" He kissed her, hard and fast and without mercy. His lips were hard, unyielding, and soon enough, her chest began to burn for air. Still, he did not stop kissing her. She began to feel lightheaded, and her chest screamed for air otherwise, she knew she would die. Finally, mercifully, his cold lips left hers. Though she hardly would have said it to his face, it was like kissing a corpse. Or a doll. She sucked in air gratefully, the dizziness fading away.

Air had never tasted so fine.

But Sasori was nowhere near done with her. One of his hands uncurled from her waist, and she could see the indents where his fingers had been. That hand propped him up, so he was towering over her, and yet nose-to-nose with her. Despite his furious tone of voice, his expression was light- deceivingly friendly. He smiled. "…Well…let's just say that it wouldn't be pretty." He stroked her cheek, and she shuddered. Every kiss, every touch that he bestowed upon her made her feel all the more contaminated. "I'd hate to ruin such a pretty face," he murmured. "I'd have to sculpt it out of wood, and although I myself am the very best at creating eternal beauty, there never really is anything like the original copy…"

She began shivering violently, as though he had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over her. She hadn't the faintest idea of what Sasori was talking about, but his words had the desired effect: she was chilled to her very core.

Apparently satisfied that she was not going to protest any more, he began to kiss her, sliding her wine-coloured robe off of her shoulders as he did so. She tried to voice her dismay, but managed only a feeble moan because that was all he allowed her to do. He did not undress her entirely, but slid the robe off so that her shoulders and her chest were bare. His lips slid over her shuddering body, and, knowing that he was surely going to have his way with her again, Naomi turned her face away in defeat, tears ebbing from her eyes in a constant stream.

"Have I not looked after you, kept you safe?" Sasori asked, pausing briefly in his movements. Something sharp pricked her neck, and she cried out in surprise and pain. "Are you not grateful?" That sharp something slid into her neck, slicing her flesh easily. Blood welled to the surface, and, to her shock, Sasori sat up, observing her silently. Then he wiped the tiny stream of blood from her, and lifted it to his mouth. "To live, to bleed…" he murmured, licking the blood off of his finger.

Naomi said nothing, just squeezed her fists shut and hoped that he would be over soon.

To her surprise, the door to Sasori's room opened. Sasori made a noise like an angry cat, and, in a movement that seemed impossible, twisted his head around three hundred and sixty degrees, so that his head was pointing towards the doorway. Naomi shrank away from the horrific sight, images of demons and monsters flashing through her mind. Sasori was truly the Devil's Child.

"_I thought I told you, Deidara, that I did not want to be disturbed unless it was an emergency!" _

"Good afternoon, Sasori," an unfamiliar, _female _voice said crisply.

Sasori sighed, and twisted the rest of his body around so that he was facing the newcomer entirely. He stood slightly as he did so, making sure not to catch any of Naomi's body in the process. "Oh, Konan. It's you."

"Indeed," Konan murmured. Now that Sasori was off of her, Naomi could see Konan clearly. She was the only female member of Akatsuki, and reported directly to Leader. She appeared to be in her early thirties, with short blue hair with a paper flower sitting atop her head. Naomi supposed she was pretty, or at least had been in her youth; the amber eyes that took in both Sasori and Naomi now were dead, apathetic. A piercing glittered underneath her lower lip. Konan's eyes lit upon Naomi herself, and she thought that she saw a flicker of disgust in the older female's eyes, before being replaced with that cold apathy again.

"I assume Leader has something I must do?" Sasori asked. Konan nodded.

"Yes. You are to go to the village hidden in the clouds and retrieve something of great importance there." Naomi felt horribly exposed before the other Akatsuki member's gaze. Along with her shoulders, her breasts were also showing, and she hurriedly tugged the robe back up, covering herself.

Sasori exhaled noisily. "When?" he inquired quietly.

"Leader would prefer it if you left at once," Konan said.

"Of course," Sasori said respectfully. Then Naomi remembered: Konan was Leader's right-hand woman. She was second in rank in the Akatsuki, and commanded a certain amount of respect on her own.

"You are to report to Zetsu once you have completed your mission," Konan stated, turning to leave. The door closed behind her with a snap.

Sasori ground his teeth angrily. "Shit," he growled. He turned back to Naomi, his brown eyes ablaze with anger. "I'm afraid I have to leave, my little beauty," he whispered, standing up fully. He touched her cheek. "As always, Deidara will keep an eye on you. Don't try to run this time."

With those words, he left the room. Naomi stared, unable to believe her luck. Had that really happened? Had she really escaped Sasori? It seemed too good to believe.

And, as far as her experience went, it probably was.

**XxX**

Sasori was angry. No, scratch that: he was _furious. _He had been reprimanding his model for eternal beauty, his soon-to-be _marionette, _and Konan had interrupted, to inform him that he, Sasori, was to embark on yet another mission.

With all of these interruptions, it would be a minor miracle in itself if he ever managed to transform Naomi Tanaka into eternal beauty itself.

Growling obscenities under his breath, Sasori slipped into his Hiruko puppet armour- in his eagerness to break the Tanaka girl in last night, he had carelessly left his armour outside the door- something he now saw was a foolish act. What if someone had destroyed it?

Once he was safely seated inside the armour, he felt his anger grow. It had first been there when Naomi had uncharacteristically refused him this morning, but now it steadily grew in intensity, slowly swallowing whatever reasoning Sasori might have possessed. He knew that such anger was unreasonable, and a form of weakness, but in his current situation, he really didn't care.

He wanted someone to take his anger out on.

Naomi obviously wasn't an option, as he couldn't afford to kill her, and Konan was untouchable.

No, the only person Sasori could really take his anger out on without being reprimanded was the terrorist bomber upon which he exercised great control- Deidara. Yet, even as the idea came into being, Sasori dismissed it almost immediately. He couldn't harm Deidara, not yet; who else was going to watch his model for eternal beauty? There was no-one else Sasori could trust to not harm her.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, the Hiruko puppet made its' way towards the main room, where Deidara would undoubtedly be. Sasori moved slowly, deliberately, the bell on his hat tinkling merrily, in sheer contrast to the puppet-master's increasingly sour mood.

When Sasori arrived at his destination, there were only three Akatsuki members present: Kakuzu, furiously debating with his partner, Hidan, about the value of money; then there was the Jashinist, using nearly twice the amount of profanities as he usually did; and, last but certainly not least, was Deidara himself, sitting uneasily between the two 'Zombie Brothers.' Neither Hidan nor Kakuzu looked up when Sasori approached them. That was fine with him. It was Deidara he wanted.

The blonde main paled slightly when he saw his Danna standing in front of him. However, he did not flinch. "Danna," he said, inclining his head slightly.

"Deidara," Sasori growled, "I need you to watch over Miss Tanaka while I'm away on a mission."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sasori could have sworn that he saw Hidan smirk slightly.

"Of course, Danna," Deidara said smoothly, standing up. "Shall I go now, hm?"

"Yes," Sasori affirmed. Then, in a voice that was filled with loathing: "Watch over her. Do not let her escape, otherwise you shall suffer…my displeasure."

Whatever bravery Deidara had had faltered. He averted his gaze, choosing to stare at the table. His skin was now very pale. "Of course, Danna."

Sasori nodded to himself inside the puppet armour. For the most part, Deidara was obedient. And he had always brought his model back to him. "Go," he rasped, and, with a swift nod, the terrorist bomber left the room. Sasori, feeling paranoid, looked over to see whether Kakuzu and Hidan had paid them any mind, but he needn't have; Kakuzu was now shouting something about how money was the only thing you could rely on. Hidan was equally furious, gesturing wildly to his Jashin necklace, blathering in his profanity-filled language.

Sasori sighed, and began making his way out of the Akatsuki base, to get this tiresome mission over and done with.

**XxX**

Deidara sighed.

He was on guard duty.

Again.

The missing-nin simultaneously welcomed and loathed these times, because, on the plus side, he could use his art without fear of being beaten to death his Danna; on the other hand, keeping an eye on someone whose situation was a thousand times worse than his own depressed him. The girl was going to die; he had no doubt about that. It was just a matter of _when. _

The terrorist bomber let out another sight, as he knocked lightly on Sasori's door. It was something he always did, so that Naomi knew that it was him who was coming in, and not Sasori himself. He supposed it was a feeble act of kindness, but it had become something of a routine to him, and to her, so surely there was no harm in it?

After waiting for a few moments to allow the girl to get dressed if she needed it, Deidara entered. Naomi was fully dressed, lying on her bed, looking as though she'd been half-strangled. Her face was very pale, and her eyes were wide, frightened. "Don't try to run today, hm," Deidara instructed her, closing the door behind him and leaning on the wall.

She said nothing.

"Sasori no Danna is in a really bad mood today, so don't try anything funny," he tried again.

This time he got a response. She rolled over, buried her face in her pillow, and mumbled, "I won't," before becoming completely and utterly unresponsive.

Deidara sighed.

**XxX**

Hidan was pissed. Kakuzu- damn Kakuzu, that stupid faggot _Kakuzu- _had started another argument with the Jashinist about _money. _Why the fuck would he, Hidan, give a shit about something like _money, _when Lord Jashin's next sacrifice was a couple of doors away?

And today would be a good day to get his hands on the girl, because that man-whore Sasori had gone on a mission, and it was just that faggot Deidara watching over her.

With his Lord Jashin's power running through his veins, Hidan could take everything that fucking terrorist bomber could throw at him, and still get the girl. With his inability to die, Hidan could almost always win every battle, and he had a feeling that the battle between him and Deidara wouldn't last very long. No; not very long at all.

So now, half an hour after man-whore Sasori had left, Hidan was now prowling the hallways of the Akatsuki base, coming up with ideas to abduct the girl and sacrifice her to Lord Jashin, and almost immediately dismissing them afterwards. He couldn't make a racket; Leader, fuck him, would know, and although Hidan was immortal, Leader was probably the only person capable of pulling Hidan apart without breaking a sweat. No, he had to do it quickly, quietly, and without as much fuss as possible.

"Fuck," Hidan growled, slamming a fist into the wall. Coming up with skilled plans had never been his strong point, and, as he realised this, his frustration grew. "Fuck, _fuck!" _

He grabbed his Jashin necklace violently. Whenever he had troublesome times, his Lord Jashin would always help. Whether it would be with fresh sacrifices or some other form of encouragement, his Lord would always be there.

Lord Jashin provided no more fresh sacrifices, considering that the sacrifice that Lord Jashin required was in the care of Deidara, but the few moments of silence helped cool Hidan's simmering anger.

He knew what to do.

Deidara was a fierce opponent, it was true, but the prick was afraid. Of Sasori himself. Hidan could simply use this fear to convince Deidara to let him have the girl, and then…

Hidan grinned, already imagining her blood staining the floor.

**XxX**

Deidara stiffened when he heard a noise outside his door. Naomi, face still buried in her pillow, didn't stir, and for a moment, he wondered if she was trying to suffocate herself, or she'd fallen asleep.

The noise sounded again.

It sounded like…laughter.

Crazy, insane laughter.

He supposed he ought to go investigate, but orders were orders, and he had been ordered to not let Naomi out of his sights. The last time he'd slipped up on Sasori's orders…

He shuddered, and gently touched the skin under his left eye, which was covered by his prominent fringe. The skin was still tender, the bruise not yet completely gone.

He grimaced. The memories of that day were too painful- and too gruesome- to think about.

As he adjusted his scope and fringe so that his bruises were covered, there was a knock at the door. That sound jolted Naomi out of whatever state she had been in, and she sat up now, her large green eyes afraid once more. "Who's there?" she whispered. Then: "Oh, God, is Sasori back?"

Deidara frowned. It couldn't possibly be his Danna; he'd only left for his mission an hour ago! The village hidden in the clouds was a great distance away; he'd be back tonight, at the very earliest. "I wouldn't think so, hm," he said now, reaching into his pouch for some of his detonating clay. He did it out of habit, not because he thought there was an enemy of the other side of the door.

He creaked the door open, to see a pair of violet eyes. "Hidan," he said, surprised, "What are you doing here, hm?"

"None of your goddamn business," Hidan growled. The door was only open a crack, so that Naomi could not see who the newcomer was. "I need to talk to the girl."

Hidan had never been a good liar. Deidara could see through it as soon as the words left the Jashnist's mouth. "I don't think so," he said firmly, and shut the door in his face.

As soon as his back was turned, Hidan began beating the door with his fists, as if he intended to beat the door down. Deidara didn't doubt it. One of his hand-mouths furiously chewing some clay, forming it into a weapon, he hauled the door open again. "What the hell do you _want, _hm?" he hissed.

Hidan smirked. "I told you," he said. "I want the girl."

"And I told _you," _Deidara began, his anger peaking despite the fact that he was face-to-face with an immortal, "That's not going to happen."

Behind him, Naomi buried her face in her pillow again.

"Oh yeah?" Hidan's grin was sadistic. Deidara was strongly reminded of his Danna, and that wasn't a good thought. "Somehow, I think it _is _gonna happen."

"Oh?" Deidara's tone was carefully neutral. He had never liked Hidan, but, then again, seeing as he was forced to join Akatsuki in the first, he had never liked any of them in the first place. But Hidan was one of the people Deidara despised the most, except perhaps Sasori or Itachi with his Sharingan.

Hidan leaned in close. Deidara could smell blood on his breath, and he grimaced. The Jashinist's violet eyes were glittering malevolently, and his grin grew wider. "I bet your precious Danna doesn't know you're still fucking around with that clay of yours, even if he said not to." Upon seeing Deidara pale even further, Hidan laughed. "Yeah, that's right! I bet he don't have a fucking clue about _that _little secret. But I sure as hell know, and your Danna won't be very fucking pleased when he finds out- and he _will _find out, don't worry about that. What he did to you before will look like _nothing. He will fuck you up, Deidara." _

Deidara felt angry with himself. Had he been that obvious? "You wouldn't," he said through gritted teeth.

Hidan looked like he was enjoying himself immensely. "Oh, wouldn't I?" he asked. "Lord Jashin and I have always hated your fucking guts, and to be honest, we'd _like _to see Sasori fuck you up. It'd be like the cherry on the cake, wouldn't it?" He threw his head back and laughed. Deidara felt his blood run cold. Danna _couldn't _know that he was still using his art- he'd be beaten black and blue for that. Maybe Sasori no Danna would even _kill _him.

Deidara really didn't want to die. He was only nineteen, after all.

Hating himself more than ever, Deidara bowed his head, silently acknowledging his position. He didn't want to die. So, as Hidan opened his mouth to say something, Deidara beat him to it: "Fine, hm. You can talk to her." As he said those words, he felt so guilty that he thought he might die anyway. It was like physical pain, gnawing at his chest and conscious, and, as Hidan grinned broadly and clapped him on the shoulder, Deidara felt his hand-mouth finally spit out a small clay dove, much too late.

**XxX**

There had been some sort of argument outside. Naomi didn't know what exactly it was about, but she knew it had been serious.

As the door opened again, she lifted her head from the pillow, to ask Deidara who had it been, but there was a different man standing in the doorway. He was taller than Deidara, with short, silvery-grey hair slicked back, and piercing, violet eyes. He was wearing the Akatsuki cloak, but the front was torn open, revealing a bare chest with a curious medallion laying on it: a circle with an upside-down triangle inside it.

She had no idea who this man was, but she suddenly got the feeling that she was in a lot of trouble.

**XxX**

Despite Lord Jashin screaming at him to take the girl and run, Hidan took his time. He forced a smile, and raised a hand in greeting to the skinny bitch who was to be his next sacrifice.

"Hey there," he said.


	6. Captured

**Chapter Five: Captured**

As the strange new man stood there, in the middle of the room Naomi was forced to spend with Sasori, smiling his strange, unnerving, somehow _false _smile, Naomi was strongly reminded of the puppet-master. It was the same kind of smile Sasori wore when he was about to have his way with her. _I'm about to have you_, that smile said, and yes, it was the exact same smile this grey-haired, purple-eyed man wore.

Naomi began to feel very scared.

Something just wasn't right about this man; why else would Deidara have sounded so angry, so reluctant to let him in?

Although she had never particularly liked the blonde-haired terrorist bomber, Naomi wished he was here. He was a servant of Sasori's, yes, but he had never harmed her.

And she knew (she hadn't the faintest idea _how, _but she _did)_ that this stranger meant to cause her harm. The way he was smiling, there was no way he couldn't _not _mean to harm her.

Trembling, still wrapped in the bed sheets she had had to share with Sasori the previous night, she sat up, staring at the man with open dislike. He grinned broadly back at her, his eyes glittering maliciously, with some kind of inner demon amusement. It took quite some time for her lips to break the thick scum of saliva that had seemingly glued her lips together (which had resulted from her refusing to talk to Sasori, and later, Deidara) and whisper the question that gnawed at her like some kind of parasite. If she was to be harmed, she wanted to at least know the name of her potential murderer. "Who-who are you?" she asked, sizing him up. He was not made of wood like Sasori, but he was a great deal taller than her master, and a lot more muscular, too. Her heart sank. She might have been able to escape (and, for a time, _outrun) _someone as young as Deidara, but this stranger was taller, stronger, and probably faster, too.

She knew that if she tried to escape this man, she would not be able to.

The man pretended to be insulted, although the smirk on his face said that he still found this highly amusing. "What's this? Not even a hello?" When she did not reply, but merely glared at him, the man sighed. "The name's Hidan. Better remember it, bitch, because you'll be sure as hell screaming it later." His tone quickly changed from being falsely warm and cheery to low and intense- _dangerous. _It was very nearly the same tone of voice Sasori used when Naomi was being disobedient.

Sweat began to roll off of Naomi in generous waves, not because she was hot, but because she was absolutely terrified, terrified of this Hidan, who had barged into her life, and had, if at all possible, made her life even worse than it already had been.

But something inside her defied her fear. It was that same simmering anger that had sparked into life earlier that day, when Sasori had asked her what she had been thinking. She balled her hands into sweaty fists and said, "Somehow, I don't think so, _Hidan." _

Hidan's smirk faded, to be replaced by an expression of smouldering anger. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and one hand snatched at his odd amulet violently, and the other closed reflexively into a fist, then opened again. It took a few moments for Naomi to realise that he was trying to calm himself down, and that brief spark of defiance sputtered and died within her. This man was _more _dangerous than Sasori, something that she thought she would never think in her life.

It took but a few seconds for Hidan to regain his composure, but to Naomi Tanaka, those few seconds felt like years. That same, sadistic smirk crept across Hidan's face again, and he released his hold on his amulet.

He took a step forward.

Naomi shrank away from him.

He laughed.

**XxX**

Deidara stood outside the door, and, when he heard Hidan laugh, he felt chilled to his very core. As a member of Akatsuki, not much could invoke such a feeling into the terrorist bomber, but hearing Hidan laugh now, cruelly, sadistically, sent a jolt of fear into his heart.

He was not afraid of Hidan himself; that religious freak had more of a bark than a bite, and was the slowest of the Akatsuki; easily avoided if one was a shinobi, and provided the preacher wasn't holding anything against you. However, Hidan held the latter against Deidara, and it was because of this that the young man had let him in with Naomi Tanaka, Sasori no Danna's current 'model for eternal beauty.' He felt bad for letting Hidan in with her, but the situation simply couldn't be helped. He didn't want to die, and he would know if Hidan tried anything funny with Tanaka…right?

As Hidan laughed again, that same cackle of the truly insane, something occurred to Deidara. Something that made his guilt intensify.

Naomi Tanaka was no ninja. There was no way she could fight off someone like Hidan. And if Sasori no Danna found her injured, or dead…

Deidara ground his teeth angrily, and then winced, having forgotten that his face was still tender from his last beating. But he had to do something. He couldn't possibly risk having Naomi injured in any way, lest he suffer his Danna's displeasure.

And he knew that Hidan would injure her, possibly even _kill _her, because Hidan only really got this crazy when his precious 'Lord Jashin' had a sacrifice for Hidan to kill, often in a brutal manner.

Deidara looked at the small clay dove he had formed only minutes ago, then dipped his hand into his side pouch, and began to make another.

**XxX**

"Come on, sweetheart," Hidan said, holding out a large, calloused hand out to Naomi. "Come with me, and you can be rid of that fuck Sasori for good." He was still smiling in that false manner, and Naomi did not like it. Not one bit.

Pressed up against the end of the bed, gripping a pillow and several sheets to put something between her and Hidan, Naomi said, "I don't believe you!" She put as much force into her words as she could. Her mother had once said that sometimes, just sometimes, if you put enough force into your words, enough conviction, when you were cornered by a stranger, you could convince him that you were not to be messed with. Her mother had done it before, and it had worked.

However, Hidan was _not _one of those that could be easily swayed by force of words. If anything, his grin grew wider, more crazed. He dropped his hand, and chuckled to himself. "You should, babe," he whispered. "Because, like it or not, you're coming with me."

He lunged forward. Naomi opened her mouth to scream, but as she tried to let forth a high-pitched keen of terror, she felt something hard and cool press against her throat. Opening her mouth, she saw that Hidan had brought something out from behind his back: a long, curved, cruel weapon, whose sharp points were now pressed against her bare throat. From the way he was holding it, she could not see what it actually was, but she knew that it could slice her throat like warm cheese, and then her blood would spurt out like a fountain, staining the bed sheets crimson. Hidan was now pressed up against her on the bed, and she marvelled at how she hadn't even seen him move. But of course. He was a shinobi, wasn't he?

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the _hard way." _As he growled those few words, he pressed the blade deeper into her neck. She whimpered, as the metal sliced into her skin, sliced through her flesh as easily as anything. His tone became conversational as he regarded her bleeding neck with an eerie fascination. She noted how his eyes darted from her neck to the amulet that rested on his chest, and somehow, she realised that the two acts were connected. That amulet had something to do with blood, bleeding, death. "Now, personally, I'd prefer the hard way, but Lord Jashin wouldn't like that much. You see, there needs to be a certain amount of blood to summon him, and if too much blood is spilt before…" he let his voice trail away, and grinned at her again. He adjusted his position slightly. "So, what's it gonna be, you stupid cunt?"

Naomi whimpered, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. She _really _wished Deidara was here, to use his detonating clay on Hidan, blow him up, into a million pieces, but he wasn't here. Had Hidan killed him?

The blade sunk a little deeper into her neck, a little closer to the dreaded jugular vein, where the fountain-spurting would begin. She cried out, and, thought it almost certainly must have been her imagination, she thought she heard someone on the other side of the door swear to themselves. "I'm not going to wait forever, bitch," Hidan snarled.

Feeling helpless, absolutely _helpless, _perhaps even more so than she was with Sasori, Naomi sighed. "Alright, alright! I'll go with you. Just, please don't hurt me anymore," she cried.

Hidan chuckled. "Heh. I knew you'd see it my way." Naomi noted how he failed to mention that he would not hurt her, and her feeling of dread grew. She would not live to see tomorrow. Perhaps she wouldn't even live to see tonight.

There were a few hours before nightfall, and, as Hidan wrestled her from the bed, she thought: _that very well could be the length of my life._

She began to weep.

**XxX**

It had taken a little longer than he had anticipated, but Hidan really didn't give a fuck. At last, at _fucking last, _he had the girl. And so the ceremony could begin.

Even as he carried her over his shoulder, he could sense his Lord Jashin's pleasure. His Lord wanted the girl badly, for reasons unknown to Hidan. All he knew was that there was something different about this girl, something that Sasori knew and guarded ferociously, and that something was what Lord Jashin also wanted but did not know. As he carried her to the doorway, on which the other side where that fucker Deidara would undoubtedly still be, he could feel that something pulsing within her, and he lusted after that with his Lord. If he could have gotten away with it, he would have sliced her open right there and then, and let her precious blood stain the carpet, and he, Hidan, could bathe in his Lord's pleasure.

But no, he couldn't do that, could he?

Deidara knew what he meant to do with the girl, and he was probably preparing to take her back. Well, he wouldn't allow that; nor would Lord Jashin. The girl belonged to _him, _Lord Jashin, and some mediocre terrorist bomber was not going to take that away from him. Hidan wouldn't let him. He would drain that little fucker if he had to; he'd like nothing more than to see Deidara's cold corpse on the ground.

Hidan halted in the doorway, licking his lips. If there was to be a confrontation, then he couldn't leave the girl conscious. She might escape, and then Hidan might very well lose the immortality he had gained from Lord Jashin, and if that happened…

He shook his head angrily, a few strands of silvery-grey hair coming free and coming to rest just above his eyebrows. His fucking fringe- no matter what he did, it always came fucking down. It was so fucking irritating. He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a quick prayer to his god, before setting the girl down.

**XxX**

Naomi was too shocked to even breathe when Hidan set her down. Her knees buckled slightly, and she nearly went down, but she regained her balance, and swayed a little on the spot, as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Hidan was standing beside her, eyes shut, his hair quickly becoming free of whatever he had used to slick it back. He appeared to be deep in concentration and completely unaware of her now.

Naomi edged away, wondering if she could make it to the bed before Hidan realised she was gone.

She didn't even get five steps in.

There was a sound behind her. A footstep. She started to turn, and something hard came down on her head. There was no pain, but brilliant white light seemed to leap across the world.

Then that same world went dark.

**XxX**

Hidan found it much easier to concentrate now that the girl was unconscious; she was now dead weight, sure, but at least she wasn't fucking blubbering in his ear and begging him to not hurt her anymore.

He was ready now.

Holding Naomi over his shoulder with one hand, and gripping his curved scythe in the other, he kicked the door open.

**XxX**

As was expected, Deidara was standing outside, with several clay doves and spiders atop his shoulder. The man's one visible eye was narrowed angrily, but widened slightly when he saw Naomi Tanaka slung over Hidan's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Put her down, hm," he growled. Several of his doves tittered angrily.

"Like hell I will, you fucking faggot," Hidan laughed, swinging his scythe experimentally. If he wanted to, the weapon could move at impossible speeds. "Lord Jashin wants her."

"I said you could _talk _to her, not abduct her and bleed her like a damn pig, goddammit!" Deidara yelled. Even though he was small, Hidan thought he could avoid the scythe if he wanted to. He could avoid the weapon, yes…but he _sucked _at hand-to-hand combat. Hidan could overpower the little runt if he wanted to.

"Still scared of getting in trouble from your Danna, Deidara?" Hidan asked slyly, loving the way the younger man's face paled at the name. He laughed openly, and laughed all the more harder when Deidara's face glowed red from suppressed anger. "Don't be. Let me by, and your precious man-whore Sasori doesn't need to know. We'll say she ran away again, and that _nobody, _not even that self-righteous Uchiha, could find her. I'll back you up. Your Danna won't be happy…but he won't kill you, either." Hidan watched, enjoying the way his words sunk in, and then added, as an afterthought: "Unless I tell him you're still fucking around with that clay of yours. _Then _he'd probably kill you."

"Dammit," Deidara growled, grinding his teeth in agitation. His doves squawked obscenities at Hidan, while the spiders readied themselves to leap at the other man. As Hidan watched, one actually leapt from Deidara's shoulder, only to land in his hand, stopping it from attacking the immortal.

That was all Hidan needed to see. Deidara had acknowledged the position he was in, that Hidan was superior, and that was all Hidan needed to know. There would be no fighting; at least, not now.

He set off, but turned back once, to grin at the terrorist bomber with delight. "Thanks, Deidara!" he called, raising a hand in mock thanks. Deidara swore at him angrily and gave him the finger.

Hidan laughed.

**XxX**

Deidara punched the wall, absolutely furious with himself. His clay doves scattered into the air, startled. He _hated _the Akatsuki. He _hated _Hidan. And, most of all, he _hated _the power-plays Sasori and Hidan were using against him. He had once been the student of the Tsuchikage, someone to be admired and feared. But now that had all gone up in smoke. He was a little boy again, struggling to prove to others that he was a worthy shinobi, and now, goddammit, he had let Hidan get away with the person he had sworn to protect, lest he be killed.

He ground his teeth angrily.

This was not over.

Not by a long shot.

**XxX**

When she woke up, she was tied to a chair in a big room filled with terrible steel objects: swords, axes, maces, kunai knives, shuriken throwing stars, even numerous spears. She saw that there were two beds, but they had been thrust up against the wall, making room. The same had happened with the two closets; they had been shoved roughly out of the way, to make room for her. The back of her head was sending long, slow waves of pain to the front of her head, and she could feel something sticky on her head. Blood?

Standing in the doorway was Hidan, shirtless save for that amulet, and wearing the standard Akatsuki pants. His hair was now completely free, and hung around his face. It seemed unnatural that someone so young should have that colour hair, silvery-grey. One hand clutched the weapon that had knocked her out- a scythe, she now saw- and the other hand was twirling the amulet around and around, seemingly out of habit.

He snapped his head around, saw that she was awake, and grinned. There was an animal quickness to him that even powerful ninja such as Deidara or Sasori could not hope to ever possess, and her heart sank. His eyes, now that she could see them up close, were of a violet much more intense than she had first seen- in many ways, they were as intense, perhaps more so, than Itachi Uchiha's, or Leader's. She saw nothing in them that she recognised as sanity, and her heart sank further. On the floor- the same ugly grey as Sasori's room, only cement now instead of the carpet Sasori had demanded- there was a dark, filmy track about nine inches wide.

Naomi thought it was probably blood. _Her _blood?

"You're awake," he said. "Good. Awesome. _Fucking awesome. _Been waiting for you to wake up. I don't like to start the ritual until the sacrifice is awake. Not as fun. Sometimes they wake up once you stab 'em a couple of times, but…" He grinned. It was a different grin than the first one he had given her. This one said _I've got you now, and there ain't a fucking thing you can do about it. _He said all this matter-of-factly, but to Naomi, there was no doubt about his state of mind. He was crazy- _beyond _crazy.

Thunder crashed overhead, loud as a load of dropped furniture. Naomi jumped- well, as well as she could manage, bound to a chair- but Hidan took no notice. He moved closer, both hands on his scythe now. Naomi struggled against her bonds, the rope biting deep into her skin, chafing horribly, but she couldn't move at all. Hidan had done his job well.

"The waiting's over now," he whispered, leering at her, "Now the ritual can begin."

He was across the room in a flash. Yes, _flash _was the word. At one moment, he was in the doorway, at the next he was beside her and driving that odd three-bladed scythe into her arm. It really wasn't much more than a scratch, but the sudden feel of cold steel slicing into her warm flesh, opening it up, and letting the red warmth of her blood swell to the surface made her scream.

It was her only way of defiance, of putting off her death; she screamed, and screamed, louder and filled with more terror than ever before; her screams a high-pitched keen of terror of absolute agony. She hoped that her screams would alert someone, preferably Leader, who knew that she was _Sasori's, _not _Hidan's, _and maybe he would come investigate the screams, and maybe he would find her, and then maybe everything would be all right.

Hidan seemed to simultaneously enjoy her agony, yet he also seemed irritated by it. He slapped her, hard enough to make white spots explode in front of her eyes. These shot around the room, drawing bright tails after them. Her head snapped to the side. Her hair flew against her cheek, and she felt blood begin to flow into her mouth as her lower lip bursts. The inner lining had been cut by her teeth, and deep. It felt like it had gone nearly the whole way through. She screamed again.

"_Shut the fuck UP!" _Hidan bellowed, hitting her again. Then he sighed. "Man, I knew you were a screamer, especially after that fuck Sasori got you, but I had no idea you'd be this _bad. _I didn't even hit a vital spot!" Now his voice was filled with a bizarre kind of wonder. Then he hardened again. "But I will, if you don't _shut the fuck up. _I'll drag it out even more, and soon you'll be _begging _me to kill you." As she watched in horror, he slid his finger along one edge of the blade, and licked her blood off his finger. He grinned.

"And now, for the main part of my ritual," he said, bending down. He uttered another one of those mad laughs, the ones that send chills down her spine, and she wondered what he was doing. That abnormal brightness in the world started to turn grey, and Naomi realised she was on the verge of fainting. She couldn't do that. If there was indeed an afterlife and she saw her family there, how could she explain to them that she had wasted her last minutes on earth in unconsciousness. They would be disappointed in her. They had raised her to fight back, and fainting now would be doing the exact opposite of what she- and they- wanted to do.

So she bit down on her ruined lip, and that pain brought her back to consciousness, and she saw that Hidan was drawing that same symbol that hung around his neck on the floor- a circle, with an upside-down triangle in it. The symbol for Lord Jashin, whoever the hell that was.

And she knew, somehow she just _knew, _that if he finished that symbol, that would be the end of her. She screamed again, so loudly and fiercely that she thought her throat might tear, and Hidan, startled and annoyed, looked up from his curious pentagram. "You stupid bitch!" he shouted, starting up from the floor, "I thought I told you to-"

An explosion racked the room.

Naomi screamed again, and saw that smoke was seeping underneath Hidan's closed door. "What the fuck…?" Hidan asked. Then realisation dawned upon him. _"Deidara! _That fucking _idiot! _I'll kill him for this!" He scanned the room quickly, saw that his scythe was further away than it needed to have been, snarled angrily, and grabbed a broadsword instead. Then he rushed out of the room, cursing.

**XxX**

Deidara grinned, ignoring the throb in his jaw. His plan was working.

**XxX**

When the door slammed and Naomi knew that Hidan had really left, Naomi knew she didn't have much time. Deidara was a powerful shinobi, but Hidan was taller and stronger. If it came down to hand-to-hand combat, Deidara wouldn't last very long. He wasn't stupid, so maybe he could trick Hidan into getting blown up or something.

"I have maybe fifteen minutes," she said to the empty room – or maybe it was the bloodstain on the floor she was talking to. Hidan hadn't gagged her, at least; why on earth would he bother? There were people to hear her scream, but there was no-one who would actually _help _her- at least, that was what she had thought.

Yes. Fifteen minutes at most.

Then Hidan would come back and kill her, just like he had killed hundreds of other people.

Fifteen minutes. Maybe even just ten.

Naomi looked down at her feet. They weren't attached to the floor, and neither were the feet of the chair. Still, she was bond tightly…

She was a runner; even Leader had said so. Damn right she was. Look at those legs, her mother had once said: they're running legs if I ever saw 'em.

They were good legs, and they were only this good _because _of her running, ever since her sister, Momoko, had been torn apart by a bear, and now it was her legs that were going to get her out of here.

Naomi leaned forward as far as the corsets binding her would allow and gradually began to flex the muscles of her thighs and calves: those runner's muscles Sasori had so admired at one point. First just a little flex, then up to half. She was approaching full flex when there was another explosion, farther away this time.

She relaxed slightly, breathing hard, sweat now breaking on her forehead.

She tried pulling the chair of the floor, and almost went face-first into one of the beds when it came free at once. She staggered, tottered, almost fell over, and backed up against the larger of the two beds to stop herself from falling over. Her legs were aching. It seemed ludicrous that her legs should hurt so much from just standing up, but in the obscure position she was in, her legs hurt terribly. Her heart was now beating so fast, she couldn't detect the individual beats; it seemed to be just a steady, hard hum in her chest and high in her neck, below the points of her jaw. If she had fallen over…she wouldn't have been able to get back up again.

So how the hell was she going to get out of here?

Picking up a weapon was a can't. Walking out the door was a won't.

So the only answer was the chair. It wasn't anything fancy, just made of wood, probably one of the chairs stolen from the Akatsuki dining room.

She had to destroy this chair. It was her only way out, and she only had minutes to do it.

So she shuffled along to a patch of wall that didn't have beds, closets, or weapons dotting the sides. Her progress was amazingly slow. It was like trying to walk with a weird, form-fitting coffin strapped to her back. And if she fell over…it _would _be her coffin.

Her legs began to scream. Sweat rolled down her face, washing away dried tears.

She found her patch of wall, and she was amazed that she had survived this trek.

There was no time to waste congratulating herself, however, and not just because Hidan might walk in and butcher her at any moment- but because her muscles were strained and trembling from trying to walk in what was more or less a sitting position. If she didn't break the chair _now, _she wouldn't be able to do it at all, and she'd be a sitting duck for Hidan's ritual.

She closed her eyes, and envisioned her parents, Yasuke, Momoko, all of them standing beside her. "Please," she whispered, blood streaming from her ruined lip. It was going to hurt. There was no doubt about that.

"Please," she said again, and swung her hips sideways into the wall, smacking the chair she was wearing against it. There was a loud cracking sound from the chair back, and the seat slewed sideways on her bottom. Only the legs remained firm.

"It's rotten," she whispered, hardly daring to believe. Okay, maybe it wasn't rotten, but it sure as hell wasn't as strong as it looked.

She swung sideways into the wall again. It was loosening. Slowly, yes, but the chair was _loosening. _She swung her hips against the wall again, letting out a scream of effort. She was no kunoichi, so things that the Akatsuki might find ludicrously easy were damn near impossible for her. But she kept doing it. The shock from the impact jarred through her. The chair didn't move; merely clung to her like a parasite. She swung again, screaming louder. There was another crack, and this time, the chair moved to the right on her back and hips.

She swung again…again…again, pivoting on her increasingly tired hips and just _smashing. _She lost count of how many times she smashed that damn chair. She was crying again. Her robe had split up the back. Part of the material had torn away, and part of her hip was bleeding.

Naomi took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and whacked herself and the wooden prison into the wall again, as hard as she could. This time there was another crack, a sag, and all at once, her left arm was free. She looked down at it, wide-eyed with amazement. The arm of the chair was still bound to her forearm, but now the body of the chair hung wonky on that side, held to by long strips of rope.

Encouraged, she kept hitting the chair into the wall, stubbornly ignoring the stabs of pain from the wooden chair, and finally, there was another _crack, _the loudest one of all. There was more sagging, and then her right arm was free. The body of the chair was now held to her but the thinnest of rope. "Yes," she whispered, and then, just because she really couldn't believe it, she confirmed her victory again: "Yes! _Yes!" _

She tugged impatiently at the bits of wood on her forearms, and let them drop to the floor. She shimmied out of her wooden prison, ignoring the pain where the splintered wood dragged across bare skin. She got rid of that terrible, digging pressure on her back, gasping for breath, crying again, she finally rid herself of that horrible wooden prison.

Crying, whimpering, she collapsed to the floor, unconsciousness threatening to overwhelm her again. She willed that away, and slowly made her way to her feet. Her crimson robe hung awkwardly on her, and it took some time to move her body so that she wouldn't trip over the trailing cloth.

Her entire body shuddering violently, Naomi staggered across the room. If she wanted to leave, she needed a weapon of some sort. Something she could defend herself with. At least now if Hidan got her, she could feel comforted about the fact that she had done something to stop him.

She briefly considered sorting through the stacks of weapons scattered along the wall, but decided against it- she didn't have the strength to sort through hundreds of weapons, and, even if she did, she didn't have the _time _to do so.

Spotting one of the closets, she stumbled towards it, unaware of the tears staining her face. She had no idea if it was Hidan's or Kakuzu's, and she really didn't care. All she cared about was getting a weapon and getting out of this hellhole.

She opened the closet, and looked in. She thought she heard a moan. The girl in the closet wasn't the one who had moaned; it had Naomi who had done that. Her eyes were open, but she had been stabbed in what looked like dozens of places, and her throat was cut ear to ear.

The girl wasn't really dead. It was just a prop or something; maybe one of Sasori's puppets…

But now there were smells rising out of the closet now. They were the smells of faeces and blood. Naomi reached in and touched the cheek below one of those staring eyes. It was cold, but it was skin. Oh, God, it was human skin!

Naomi slammed the door shut with a small scream. Hands clasped over her mouth, trying to fight back the bile that had risen up in her throat, she backed away, eyes wide with terror. She backed away until she was back in the middle of the room again.

Great.

She was back where she had started.

There was another explosion, and then Hidan began to swear. Naomi's heart sank. He was closer now.

She had to move.

She saw that Hidan had not taken his scythe with him, and, swaying slightly as she did so, Naomi picked it up. It was heavy, and she was sure she could not use it the way it was meant to be used- but she was sure that she could swing it, and that was good enough. She could see her blood drying on the three separate blades, and again, she had to fight to keep her food down.

Her entire body trembling, threatening to collapse in on her, she approached the door, feeling a little safer now that she had a weapon in her hands.

She was nearly there when the door burst open. Hidan stood there, his hair in disarray, and blood dripped down the sides of his face and into his eyes. He took in the situation at a glance, and seemed to understand everything. _"Oh, you annoying bitch!" _he screamed, and ran forward to grab her.

She swung out with the scythe. It sailed past him and nearly buried itself into the wall. Hidan dodged the attack easily, and stood there, smirking at her. "What was that?" he asked. "A fucking four-year-old could have dodged that!"

Frantic, she swung again, and missed. He was laughing again, that horrible, maniacal laughter, the laughter of the truly insane. He reached out with his left hand, grabbed her wrist, twisted it. Something creaked. Or maybe _snapped. _Either way, pain bolted up her arm, as bright as light. She tried to hold onto the handle of the scythe, but there was no chance. It slid out of her grasp, to rest somewhere near her feet. When Hidan let go of her wrist, her right hand flopped, her fingers splayed uselessly.

Hidan bored in on her, and Naomi used her hands to push him backward, ignoring the fresh scream of pain from her strained wrist. It was instinct only. Her rational mind would have told her that a push wasn't going to defeat a shinobi, especially not one from Akatsuki, but her rational mind was now somewhere in the corner of her head, not able to do anything but hope for the best.

He outweighed her, but the blood was in his eyes, blocking his vision, and his coordination was not the best. Down he went, throwing out an arm to block his fall. "You _bitch," _he hissed, and now it was like there were two voices saying it, Hidan's, and someone else's- surely this Jashin god couldn't _speak through Hidan? "You fucking bitch!" _

Yes, it was like there were two voices speaking now, one, the familiar, snarky drawl of Hidan, the other, a low, sadistic growl, much different from Hidan's actual voice. It chilled Naomi to her very core, and, had she heard it under other circumstances, she would have frozen from sheer shock. However, it was just her instinct pushing her now, and so she picked up the scythe, finding new strength in her raw panic, and she struck out again.

This time her aim was true. The three blades of the scythe sailed through the air, to lodge themselves deep into Hidan's shoulder. Hidan let out a scream of pure fury. _"You fucking BITCH!" _he screamed with two voices. Blood ran down his body like a river. _"You'll pay for this, you whore!" _

And with those words, he wrenched the scythe out of his shoulder. Naomi stared, wide-eyed with shock. How could he do such a thing? He should have been lying on the floor, dying of blood loss. No _human _thing could do that.

Out of tricks, she ran through the open door.

She heard Hidan get up after her. _"You fucking CUNT!" _he screamed. _"I'm going to stick you like a fucking PIG!" _

She ran, panting hard, her breath coming hard and fast. She was crying again. Her hips were bleeding. Her wrist was most likely broken. Her lower lip was split, torn apart.

She ran now with all the strength she could muster, and, even as she ran up the hallway, she could feel that strength begin to fail her. Sheer panic could only get you so far. In the end, like any other kind of strength, it failed you as well.

As she sprinted, hearing the injured but otherwise still-alive Hidan lumber after her, she saw that the sky had darkened, and that it was still raining. Deidara was nowhere in sight. Nor was Leader, or anyone else who could help her.

"_You shattered my shoulder, you bitch!" _Hidan howled. He was closer now. Much, much closer.

Naomi saw the turn she and Sasori usually took to go to the hot springs, and she took it, hoping against hope that someone was there, _anybody, _even Kisame or Itachi. Surely they would help her?

"_I'm gonna get you, Tanaka!" _Hidan cried joyfully, now very close. _"I'm going to get you for what you did to my shoulder!"_ Naomi looked back and saw that he was but a few steps behind her. She wouldn't make it to the Akatsuki dining room.

She was going to die.

After everything, after all that she had done, she was still going to die.

Gritting her teeth, she made one final dash, her final sprint- her death sprint. It was no good.

Hidan's fingers scraped across the back of her robe, trying to grab hold of the blood-slicked cloth, and then-

She ran headfirst into something hard, nearly knocking herself unconsciousness in the process. She tasted fresh blood welling in her mouth. Something lifted her gently, placed her on the floor behind whatever it had been that she had run into.

She could hear Hidan's furious screams, and, fighting back dizziness, she sat up and saw who her rescuer was-

"Your shoulder," Sasori growled, "is the _least _of your problems."


	7. These Strange Feelings

**Chapter Six: These Strange Feelings.**

Hidan took in the fearsome sight of Sasori, clad in his Hiruko puppet armour, the long, powerful scorpion tail arching over Hiruko's hunched form, it's tip pointing directly at the Jashinist's neck, the tip laced with poison.

The man with the shattered shoulder went pale, the blood draining from his face. Naomi suspected that while he could hold his own against a younger opponent such as Deidara, Hidan didn't have much of a chance against someone as strong as Sasori. She didn't feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him, however.

Hidan had time enough to utter two words, before the tail struck:

"Oh, _fuck." _

The deadly point of the tail dug into Hidan's neck, neatly severing flesh, sinew, and grinding against bone. Hidan let out a high-pitched, gobbling scream, as the tail swiped again and again, sending blood spraying in a macabre fountain. The wooden tail scraped against the white knob of bone again and again, before finally shattering Hidan's neck. He screamed again, his head kept in place by the thinnest scrap of flesh, and in an instant, that was gone, too.

As a preacher for his horrific god, Jashin, Hidan had been granted with immortality, and as such, he could not truly die…Naomi knew this to be true. But she also knew that Sasori would make sure that he would pay the price for hurting her.

Hidan might be immortal, but he could still feel pain.

As she came to this conclusion, Naomi found that she could only stare, too dazed from her running into Hiruko, and too frightened to really say or do anything. She was on the brink of unconsciousness, and the only reason she was still aware of what was happening was because of the sharp pain in the back of her head, slow and pounding, like some absurd drum of pain. She knew she ought to be happy that Sasori was here, but…

Unable to help it, she let out a scream of her own, as Hidan's blood splashed violently against her face. She coughed and spluttered; some of it had landed in her mouth. She struggled to spit it out, certain it was poison. Her clothes now clung to her like a second skin, soaked with both her own blood and Hidan's.

The tail struck again and again, having first neatly severing Hidan's head, and then the rest of his limbs. Blood spurted from the stumps where his arms and legs used to be like a gory fountain- or a hose. Limbs twitched. One of Hidan's hands tugged mindlessly at Naomi's blood-soaked robe, and she wrenched it out of his grip, screaming again.

Hidan was still screaming- but his head was now on the floor. He was mainly screaming nonsense, but at the same time, some of his words were discernible; he was cursing Sasori, cursing her, cursing Deidara, cursing them all. Yet he also seemed to be praying for forgiveness, for amongst the numerous obscenities, there was also an occasional "Forgive me, my Lord! Spare me!" thrown in there as well.

It was a disturbing sight- perhaps the most disturbing so far in Naomi Tanaka's life.

Sasori himself made no noise as he dismembered Hidan; his tail moved swiftly, ceaselessly, and for a moment, Naomi could appreciate the way it moved, and why Sasori liked to refer to his creations as 'art.'

That thought bewildered her. What on earth was she _thinking? _Sasori created puppets with only one purpose in mind- to destroy. He had already destroyed Naomi's entire family. It sickened her that she had felt that way, even for an instant.

She moaned, the pain in her body intensifying. She knew that if she did not receive medical attention soon, she would die. Or come very close to it.

Perhaps she had hit her head very hard when she had run into Sasori, because, as she knelt there, unable to move for the amount of pain racking her body, she felt an odd sense of- _security. _

That thought staggered her even more than the previous admission, so much so that she actually swayed for a moment, feeling light-headed. She groped for the wall, her blood-slicked fingers scrabbling frantically against the smooth stone, trying to find something, _anything, _to hold on to, to keep her conscious.

The movement behind her faltered. "There," Sasori rasped from within the Hiruko puppet, and there was a sound, something rather like a _clunk. _Hidan swore at him furiously. Sasori ignored him. "He won't be bothering you anymore, Naomi."

Naomi turned her head, looking like she was covered in war-paint instead of blood, her expression wild. Sasori sensed that she was nearly broken. He hoped that that was not so. There was something different about Naomi Tanaka that all of the other useless wenches had not possessed, and he intended to find out what it was. He was furious that someone had dared to touch her, and he had taken an intense delight in dismembering the one who had done it.

Naomi whimpered, seeing her surroundings clearly for the first time. The walls were streaked with gore; random scraps of flesh and Akatsuki robe littered the floor, and streaks of blood smeared the walls. There was a lump of flesh lying in an enormous puddle of blood, and Naomi guessed that that was Hidan's limbless body. Blood was also smeared on the Hiruko tail; Naomi saw this for a moment, before it slipped underneath the Akatsuki robe, back into its proper place.

"You two-faced motherfucker," Hidan's head snarled. "You betray one of your own for a useless slut like _her?" _

"Shut up," Sasori said mildly, turning away from the carnage he had created. He turned to Naomi, who shrank from him slightly. She had seen the tail of the Hiruko puppet before, of course, had even had it up against her throat, but she had never seen just one aspect of a puppet create so much…_destruction. _

Even though he had just saved her, she could not help but fear him. Such had been engraved in her nature.

It didn't help that there were bits of gore dusting Hiruko's hulking form.

Sasori's voice was quiet, even gentle, as he asked, "Naomi, are you alright? Where did he hurt you?"

Naomi opened her mouth to answer, but another, familiar voice interrupted her.

"Naomi!" the voice gasped.

Both she and Sasori turned, to see Deidara hurrying towards them, his face ashen and sticky with sweat, his long, blonde hair plastered to his head. His robes were smoking slightly, and Naomi noticed that he seemed to favour one leg slightly more than the other, giving him a slight limp. Despite him being a member of Akatsuki, she felt a sudden warm wave of gratitude overwhelm her. If it had not been for Deidara, she probably wouldn't have made it out of Hidan's room at all.

The young man saw her, and relaxed slightly. "You're alright, hm," he said, his voice dripping relief.

"_No thanks to you," _Sasori growled.

Deidara seemed to notice Sasori for the first time. His eyes widened. "Oh, shit," he said. Sasori raised an eyebrow. Deidara faltered. "I-I mean, y-you're back, Danna!"

"Obviously." Sasori did not seem impressed with Deidara's appearance. Naomi suddenly remembered that she was not the only one in the Akatsuki base who was punished- Deidara also occasionally received a beating from Sasori. "Where were you, Deidara?"

Naomi tried to swallow, and found that she could not. A lump seemed to have formed in the back of her throat, preventing her from swallowing, or even breathing. Panic struck her heart, and she suddenly knew that Deidara was in grave danger of losing his life. A twinge of pity struck her, pity for the man who had helped saved her, and yet would never be recognised for his heroic efforts.

Deidara seemed to also realise this. He stared at the ground, refusing to look Sasori in the eye, for reasons that were beyond Naomi. "I specifically told you to _keep an eye on HER!"_ Sasori bellowed, his voice made all the more intimidating by the Hiruko puppet deepening his voice. The tail slid out from beneath the robe again, the tip pointing directly at Deidara's heart. Unlike Hidan, Deidara was not immortal, and everyone present knew that one strike would be the end of the terrorist bomber.

"You've made me angry, Deidara," Sasori whispered. Naomi flinched; she knew that tone of voice all too well. It was the tone he got when he was extremely aggressive. The tail crept closer, so that it was actually touching the front of the other man's robes. "Need I remind you what happens when I get angry?"

Deidara swallowed tightly, his hands balling into tight fists. Naomi was certain the action was unconscious; Deidara had no idea what he was doing. "N-no," he whispered. "Danna, it wasn't like that, I swear…"

Sasori snorted. "I've had enough of your lies," he said, and brought the tail back, ready to inject that deadly poison right into Deidara's heart-

"It's true," Naomi blurted out. Her lips hadn't wanted to cooperate with her, not when they were split and broken and covered in dried blood, but she forced the words out nevertheless. She had been responsible for too many deaths already. She did not need another one on her list.

However, since her mouth was full of blood, her words were slurred, so what came out was: _"Ish twoo…" _

The two men looked at her, Sasori's expression unreadable, Deidara's somewhat grateful. Hidan swore at her from his place on the floor.

Embarrassed by her speech impediment, but determined to continue nevertheless, she spoke quickly, feverishly, knowing that the situation was dangerously ugly, and not wanting it to get any uglier.

"Sasori, Deidara was helping me. When H-Hidan kidnapped me, D-Deidara created a d-diversion so I could escape from Hidan's room, and-and…" she began to cry, the tears making deep tracks in her bloodied face. "He was helping me, damn it, don't kill him for _helping _me, damn you!"

There was silence.

Absolute silence.

The seconds crawled by, and Naomi felt that every second was an age.

"Okay," Sasori murmured, and Naomi felt something touch her head gently, "All right."

He lowered the weapon. Deidara let out a breath Naomi suspected he had been holding for minutes. His chest heaved.

Ignoring Deidara completely, Sasori picked up his sobbing, near-broken marionette, and carried her away.

**XxX**

Deidara supposed he should have been grateful for the Tanaka girl's interference, but he knew that just because she had spoken against Sasori no Danna, he wasn't of the woods just yet.

As Sasori had cradled his sobbing, shuddering mess of a girl, he had short Deidara a look that had certainly promised trouble.

Deidara shuddered, knowing what was going to follow.

**XxX**

Sasori took her to his room. The scorpion tail was curled firmly around her thin, shuddering body, and it was with this that he placed her gently on their bed, before shedding his Hiruko armour. Normally, the sight would have caused her to pale, perhaps even cry out in despair, but at that moment, Naomi Tanaka was fighting tooth and nail to stay conscious. The pain had dulled to a low roar, and darkness was threatening to overwhelm her vision, draw her deep into the depths of unconsciousness.

Sasori touched her face gently, cursing to himself. Naomi felt her face scrunch up, whether in pain or in anguish, she hadn't the faintest idea. "It's all right now," Sasori told her kindly, stroking her cheek. His fingers were like feathers, barely there and yet _there _at the same time. "You're safe, Naomi."

Had she been in any other state of mind, she would have realised that this was only the second time Sasori had ever referred to her by her actual _name. _She would have marvelled at the admission.

Right now, however, she really couldn't care less.

The darkness beckoned to her, and she dove into it, away from Sasori, away from Hidan, simply _away_, away from all the pain and humiliation.

Naomi Tanaka slumped as she finally lost the battle, and slipped deep into unconsciousness.

**XxX**

_She ran, her robe flapping, making frantic slapping noises against her bruised body. Her breath came hard and fast, and it felt like her lungs were full of needles._

_No, that wasn't quite right. Not needles, but-_

_Splinters._

_Her lungs were full of splinters. _

_She tripped over just then, over an unseen rock, and she fell hard, what little breath she had instantly being knocked out of her body. Her chest heaved, and she struggled to draw in another breath. _

_She couldn't do it. _

_She lay in the forest, struggling for air that would not come. She tried to scream, but you needed air to do that, and all that came out was a pathetic whimper. She tried desperately to draw in another breath, but her lungs were so filled with splinters that air could no longer enter her. Her body make a crackling, brittle sound, and somehow she knew, just _knew, _that it was the wood inside her, moving. _

_Bright lights popped in front of her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but she couldn't. All she could do was shield her eyes and shudder helplessly, trying to breath but not able to._

_Suddenly, darkness blotted out the white light. Naomi opened her eyes, to see Hidan wearing a black robe, looking like Death itself. He carried his scythe in both hands, the hood of the robe pulled up._

"_I could hear you miles away," the Death-Hidan said, his skeletal face pulled into a horrendous grin, "Now, finally, Lord Jashin can have his sacrifice." _

_The scythe swung down, aimed at her face. _

_Naomi found it within her to scream._

**XxX**

When she woke, she thought she was in a hospital. She was dressed in fresh clothes. She could smell antiseptics and various medicines. And although her body still hurt, she could feel bandages.

For a moment, she was so overwhelmed with the fantasy of being in a hospital that she literally wanted to leap up and cheer, cheer until her throat felt like it might tear. She was finally away from Hidan, and Sasori, and the rest of the Akatsuki! She was no longer a prisoner!

However, that image shattered when a familiar face with short red hair appeared in her peripheral vision. It was Sasori.

"You're awake," he said softly, stroking her face. "Good."

It took Naomi a moment to realise that she was still in Sasori's room, but several notable things had changed: the bedding had been changed, as had her clothes, and she was clean. He had tended to her wounds sometime while she had been in the darkness.

She felt a sudden, _odd _wave of gratitude for the young-looking puppet master overwhelm her.

She was aware that her head still hurt. Wincing, she tried to raise a bandaged arm to the source of the agony, but she found she could not. Her arms felt strangely heavy, as though weighed down by something, although Sasori had not moved his hands from her face. She struggled for words, but her mouth would not cooperate. Her confusion must have shown in her eyes, for Sasori smiled, a little wistfully.

"Sedatives," he murmured. "You needed them."

After everything she had been through, it was no wonder.

Since her mouth would not work with her, however, she remained silent.

"I should have _never _have gone on that mission," Sasori growled suddenly. "I should have seen this coming."

It wasn't your fault, Naomi tried to say, but the thick scum of saliva was effective in gluing her lips firmly shut. She noticed that her lips had been sewn together, where her teeth had chewed through them. The thought made her squirm. Who had done it? Sasori? Or that masked ninja from the Waterfall village? The thought of either of them sewing her lips together made her stomach lurch. She wondered what would happen if she tried to throw up when her lips were sewn shut. Nothing, probably.

"I tended to your wounds," Sasori said then, his voice growing softer and softer by the second, although Naomi knew that his anger was not directed at her- for once, "And I fed you intravenously."

Naomi managed to break through the thick scum that had been rendering her mute, and croaked, "Intravenously?"

Sasori took her confusion for ignorance. "I fed you through tubes," he whispered. "You weren't…in any condition to eat otherwise."

Naomi knew where his thoughts lay. She had been very close to death, and knew that if Sasori had not appeared when he had…

She shivered. Sasori cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead softly. "I believe you are going to mend," he told her, a smile twitching at his lips, "I haven't lost my model for eternal beauty just yet."

She should have hated him for calling her that, as in any other situation it would have felt derogatory, but it didn't feel that way right now. It was his pet name for her; nothing more, nothing less.

It was probably more than a little foolish of her, but she thought of the dream she had just had, and how Hidan's scythe had dismembered her, as Sasori had dismembered Hidan, and she shuddered.

**XxX**

He had almost lost her. When she had run into him, covered in blood, he ought to have killed her, just for putting herself in that situation in the first place. Besides, the transformation could not be at its best if his subjects had little blood to offer in the first place. Sasori prided himself in making only the very best puppets for himself. A half-dead girl shouldn't have even needed a second thought.

He _ought _to have killed her right then and there.

But he didn't.

For reasons beyond even Sasori's knowledge, he had let the girl live, had even tended to her wounds!

The puppet-master shook his head violently. He was taking too good care of the Tanaka bitch. That would have to stop. As soon as she was healthy again, he would have his way with her, again and again, until he was _sure _that she would make a suitable marionette.

And Hidan would not be able to get at her.

As he had said before, Sasori did not like to recreate faces.

Now, as she watched him with eyes wide with some kind of inner emotion, he decided that enough was enough. It was time to stop fooling around. The girl was fodder, nothing more.

That was what he would tell himself.

**XxX**

Naomi sensed a change in Sasori's demeanour, and she did not like the way his brown eyes were studying her. It was almost as if he was _measuring _her, but with just his eyes.

She did not like that. Not one bit.

Then she told herself that she was just being silly. Sasori had just saved her, tended to her wounds. He wouldn't try to hurt her now.

"I think I had better leave," Sasori whispered. His hands dropped from her face, and the sudden loss of warmth, no matter how little it had been, was devastating to Naomi, who craved nothing more.

"Sasori," she whispered, her voice weak.

Sasori raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

To both of their surprise, she sat up, her body creaking ominously, and reached out with both of her bandaged arms, encasing Sasori in what was unmistakably a hug. Sasori stiffened beneath her. "Thank you," she murmured.

After a moment of hesitation, his arms came around her waist, and returned the slight pressure.

After a few more moments, he carefully unwound her and sat her back on the bed. "Don't do things that will hurt you," he ordered, and then left the room.

Naomi leaned back into the pillows, and closed her eyes.

**XxX**

When Naomi next woke, she was alone in the room. That was fine with her. It gave her time to think.

First of all…

What had she been _thinking, _hugging Sasori? Did she _want _to encourage him? Encourage him to hurt her, have his way with her in the future?

She closed her eyes again, angry with herself. There had to be a logical explanation for this. She had been, after all, heavily drugged, and suffering from more than just one concussion. She hadn't been thinking rationally, that was all-

She opened her eyes, and cursed.

What was _happening _to her?


	8. Metamorphosis

**Chapter Seven: Metamorphosis: Remembrance and Punishment. **

Time passed, and Naomi's wounds began to heal. The cuts closed, the bleeding stopped. Even her broken bones began to mend.

Sasori took extravagant care of her, changing her bandages twice a day, dressing her many cuts, applying lotion to her numerous bruises, bathing her constantly. He was always alone with her when he did this- when approached by anyone but Leader or Konan, the puppet-master would utter a low growl and threaten them with the poisoned tail of Hiruko. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. It was good because Hidan couldn't come within fifty meters of Naomi now (Sasori and Kakuzu had collaborated and came to a reluctant truce to keep the Jashinist at bay), but it was bad because she could not thank Deidara properly for what he had done to help her that day. He had taken a huge risk, and she wanted to thank him for it. But it was not to be. Sasori wouldn't hear of it.

He was gentler with her now, never doing anything more perverse than a kiss on the forehead, or a swift one on the lips. It was like he was almost afraid of hurting her. She knew how close to death she had come. It followed her everywhere, like a stormy black cloud of death and pain and horror. She could push it to the back of her mind; but the memory of just how _close _she had been was always there- perhaps it would always be there.

After nearly a month of this extraordinary care, Naomi began to move again. At first, it was but a few twitches of her healing legs, but that soon progressed to getting out of bed- even moving about the room. She was awkward and clumsy, full of stinging pain, but she _could_ move, and that was something she had thought would never happen again. After everything that had happened to her, it seemed like a great miracle. In just a week, she was moving as if she had never been hurt at all.

On one particular day, when she was happily striding around the tiny room that she and Sasori shared, she chanced a glance back at him, and she saw the relief on his face even from the other side of the room. She was healing- he had managed to save her.

As she stared back at that unnaturally young face, she saw things that she had never noticed before, like how warm and kind those brown eyes could be- or could have been. His hair was cropped and a blazing red colour, not unlike the bloody sun she sometimes saw on the horizon, but it suited him. Though she knew him to be much older, he looked to be around her own age- perhaps a little younger. It suddenly occurred to her that, given the right circumstances, he could be described as attractive.

Sasori, although oblivious to her thoughts, noticed her scrutiny. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Do you hurt somewhere?"

She shook her head, biting at her battered lip. How the hell could she think such things about him? He had been the one who had murdered her entire family, and kidnapped her, and used her for his own sick pleasure! She had no business noticing the physical features of her rapist. It was _because _of him that Hidan had taken an interest in her, and very nearly sacrificed her to his sick god! She was suddenly frustrated with herself. Her thoughts were muddy. They often were these days, because of the seemingly endless succession of drugs that Sasori used on her to keep the pain away. But now they seemed muddier than ever. She could not comprehend _why _she was feeling this way. Perhaps it was because of the drugs. Yes, that seemed logical. Drugs did strange things to people, made them go silly with ecstasy. And she was currently pumped with an undetermined amount of drugs. She couldn't even figure out what the hell she was pumped up with, since the drugs were not traditional. As well as being a master puppet-user, Sasori had proved to be excellent with concocting his own medicinal drugs. She could not even say what they were made of, since he made them elsewhere.

She sighed, and began to walk again. If he didn't know what she was thinking, then she was fine. Sasori was many things, but one of the things he was not was a mind reader.

She was glad for that.

If she could not clear away the mud of her own thoughts, how the hell would Sasori manage?

**XxX**

The Tanaka girl was healing at a satisfactory rate, Sasori noted. He watched her intently as she continued to edge around the room, searching for any fault in her actions, whether she favoured one leg slightly more than the other. It was important that he noticed these things; he wanted a _perfect _specimen for eternal beauty. There was little use in granting a lame specimen immortality; who could appreciate a form that was deformed, grotesque?

No, after everything that had happened, he would take extravagant care of his girl, his _marionette, _and would make sure no more harm would come to her. She was too damned important- and he was too close for everything to fall apart now.

Yes. His preparations would soon be complete.

It was perhaps strange of him, but he felt strangely neutral about that fact. Normally, he felt something within his heart that was felt something akin to joy, but he did not this time.

The puppet-master shook his head vigorously. He was being foolish. He was letting emotion corrupt his heart. The only reason he could think of why he was being so foolish was because of just how _close _Naomi had been to death. Sasori had worked over her motionless body feverishly for hours before he could safely say that she would not die. If she had…_That _certainly would have complicated things.

He watched her walk around the room, and he was pleased with his efforts. She was healing quickly- much more quickly than he had expected.

As soon as her back was turned, his mouth curved into a smile.

**XxX**

Although she was healing at a rapid rate, Naomi still had her limits. After nearly half an hour of careful treading about her room, she grew tired. Her legs felt like jelly, and she struggled back to the bed that she shared with Sasori. She couldn't make it the entire way, and Sasori had to help her, lifting her gently with his rough-smooth hands and half-walking, half-dragging her over to the bed. The gesture was oddly familiar, and as Naomi settled back onto the pillows, exhausted from her efforts, she remembered just _why _it was familiar:

_She was ten, and had fallen over a stray rock in the forest. The cut had hardly been life-threatening, but it had still bled a lot, and, with her intense fear of blood, Naomi had began to scream. _

_Her brother, who had been hunting game nearby, dropped his hunting knife and came to her aid, concern engraved on his face. Even back then, when she was ten and he was thirteen, he could be described as handsome. _

"_What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" he asked. Naomi pointed to her knee, where the skin had broken. Almost as if under a spell, she began to cry. Yasuke hugged her. _

"_Hey. Hey, come on. It's not that bad," he said, and although he was wearing the new shirt Mother had made for him, he seized the bottom of it and tore off a long strip. Naomi watched with wide-eyed wonder. Yasuke then proceeded to bandage her knee, although clumsily, and patted her knee when he was done. "See?" he said. "It looks better already." _

_Naomi giggled. Yasuke stood up. "Can you stand? We need to get back home, anyway." _

_She tried, but the pain in her knee was too great. Her left leg was fine, but her right felt like jelly; it would not support her. She swayed, and almost fell, but her brother caught her. "Guess not," he said, and pulled a silly face. She laughed again. "Guess I'll just have to carry you home then, squirt," he said then, and he hauled her to her feet, and slung one of her arms around his neck, so that she was half leaning on him. She giggled again; the despair of her sudden fall was gone. She was happy. _

_The two of them then proceeded back the way they had came, Yasuke half-walking her, half-dragging her. _

_But it didn't matter. They were happy. _

There was wetness on her face, and Naomi realised that she was crying. It was as if some inner part of her, the part with all the memories of her previous life (she had unconsciously come to think of that time as her _past life, _and this time as the _new life), _had been sealed within her, buried deep underneath all the blood, the horror, the forced sex. But now, it seemed, all that was coming undone, and she was reliving her past memories. She didn't like that; it felt like physical pain to remember all of that, and she was in enough pain already, trying to still heal from Hidan's thrashing.

"Are you all right?" a soft voice asked, and she jumped, not realising that Sasori had drawn close to her. He was sitting next to her on the bed, his big brown eyes watching her intently, his expression unreadable.

She faced him fully, tears spilling down her face, and he stroked her face. She let him do it, too tired, mentally and physically, to push him away. He asked her again if she was all right, and she nodded, and murmured sleepily, "I'm so tired…and I hurt, too."

Sasori took his hand away. "We can fix that," he said softly, and got up, obviously intending to get her some medication. She wasn't sure if she ought to be glad for that or not.

When he came back, he had a syringe in one hand. He sat down next to her and carefully undid the bandage on her right arm. Naomi noted that her veins on that arm had swelled up to twice their normal size: was that normal? Were they supposed to look like that?

She was jerked out of her confused thoughts by the slight jolt of pain of the needle sliding into place, sinking into her delicate skin, lightly piercing one of her abnormally enlarged veins. She made a point not to cry out; she merely gritted her teeth and endured the pain. It didn't last long, and then, soon enough, the relief came. It did two things: completely obliterated her pain, and made the feeling of sleepiness intensify.

It soon became a fierce battle to keep her eyes open.

Sasori saw this, and smiled gently. "Sleep," he whispered, and pressed his cold lips to her forehead.

**XxX**

Once he was sure that his _marionette _was safely in the throes of drug-induced relief, Sasori's smile faded. That brief feeling of relief faded, to be replaced by a dark, pulsing anger. His _marionette _was healing quickly, yes, but she had been so damn _close. _And, unlike previous times, it had not been because of her futile attempts to flee he, Sasori. No, this time, it was because that stupid blonde-haired brat had failed in his duties to protect her. Naomi had said that he had tried to protect her from Hidan once she had been captured, yes, but…

_It had been his fault that Naomi had been taken in the first place. _

Yes; that singular fact was one that Sasori could not dismiss. Deidara had been weak enough to be blackmailed by the preacher Hidan, and as a consequence, she had been taken, and nearly killed. He also did not doubt that Hidan would have raped her as well. Hidan himself never spoke of rape during his rituals, but Kakuzu was his partner, after all, and the older man had spoken of violent rapes during some- if not all- of that pathetic Jashinist's rituals.

The thought of someone else touching his model for eternal beauty made Sasori sick to his stomach. That deep, dark pulsing anger roared into life; his wooden hands itched to curl themselves around an unsuspecting throat, or perhaps press deep into the breakable flesh of a mortal.

Sasori stood up. He wasn't even sure if he would bother climbing into his Hiruko puppet. It was still encrusted with blood and yellowing flesh, after all, and he would not need it to reprimand Deidara for his foolish actions. He wouldn't kill the boy; he had promised his model for eternal beauty that much. But that did not mean that he could not teach the terrorist bomber a lesson. He deserved it.

Sasori began to smile again, but this time with more malice.

**XxX**

In the end, he had decided to encase himself in his Hiruko suit. The fact that the puppet was still streaked with gore would prove effective; it would scare that little blonde brat shitless.

That, of course, was what he had been aiming for.

**XxX**

There was a knock at Deidara's door. Letting out a sigh, the young man eased himself to his feet (which was no mean feat, as one of his legs was weaker than the other, and at times would not even _support _him), and answered it, a feeling of dread deep within him. There were only two people that disturbed him at such an unruly hour: Leader, nearly always with a mission for Deidara to complete, and Sasori no Danna himself. He dreaded the latter, knowing that Sasori only called on him at this hour because he was going to be punished.

Sure enough, on the other side of the door, there was the hulking form of the Hiruko puppet, with whom Deidara had been threatened with only a week before. At the sight, Deidara's vision blurred; he swallowed tightly, once, twice, three times, knowing that whatever he tried to say would not delay his fate. His face was very pale.

"Sasori n-no Danna-" was all he got out, before he was struck across the face with the flat side of Hiruko's tail. He was hit hard enough for white spots to flash across his eyes. These white spots shot across the room, with white tails trailing after them. Deidara's head snapped to the side. Unconsciously, he bit down on his lower lip, causing blood to swell to the surface. The metal eyepiece he had been wearing was thrown somewhere in the room.

The younger man looked up at his Danna through an eye that was already starting to swell; he would have a wicked black eye the next day. A thin stream of blood ran from the corner of his mouth to his chin. "D-Danna?" he asked weakly. He coughed. A mixture of blood and spittle came out.

"_I specifically told you to keep an eye on her," _Sasori growled. The tail flashed. Deidara was struck again. "But you didn't, did you? You let Hidan get his hands on her!"

Again the tail struck, again and again, never piercing the skin, but always hitting with the broad side, slapping the other man's skin with as much power as possible without killing him.

"I-I'm sorry, all right?" Deidara shouted, holding his hands out in a feeble attempt at protection, "I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand, hm!"

"But it _did,"_ Sasori snarled. "You say you're sorry now, Deidara, but you'll be sorrier once I'm through with you."

Deidara's eyes widened. "Don't kill me!" he cried through a mouthful of blood. The result was a pitiful-sounding: _"Dunn keelll me...!" _

The Hiruko tailed paused, inches from Deidara's face. "I'm not going to kill you," Sasori said, sounding slightly surprised. "I promised my _marionette _that much."

A flash of relief showed on Deidara's face. That aggravated Sasori, almost to the point where he actually _felt _like killing Deidara, despite the promise he had made earlier to his model for eternal beauty. In a movement too quick for even Deidara to follow, Sasori struck him again and again, pounding him in the ribs. Despite his sudden, intense hatred of the young man, he could not continue to pulverize his face: he was not, in any way, allowed to disfigure his partner in such a way that he was no longer fit to be a part of Akatsuki. Leader knew that Hidan could not truly die, and as such had chosen to gracefully ignore Sasori's bout of rage with the Jashinist, but Sasori knew that his orange-haired leader would not be so lenient should Deidara manage to die at his hands.

Perhaps, he, Sasori of the Red Sand, would be punished as well.

And Sasori couldn't have that.

As the puppet-master looked down upon the cowering, shivering mess of a man that lay before him, he briefly considered the idea of forcing himself inside him, violating him as he had violated so many other young girls. _That _would bend Deidara's will to his; make sure that he would not disobey.

But what if that didn't work? Sasori could not take precautions with Deidara as he had with Naomi Tanaka- if Deidara chose to destroy himself after being violated by Sasori, there was nothing that even Leader could do to stop it.

Sasori ground his teeth angrily. It looked like he would have to just leave Deidara the way he was. Fear was an awesome way of bending someone's will to your own; if he raped him, here and now, then there would be no more fear, would there? Sasori would have done all he could to make the other man's life a misery. Perhaps then Deidara would not fear him as he should.

Deidara looked up at his Danna through his blood-streaked mess of hair, his normally blonde hair now an odd orange colour. His one visible eye was nearly puffed shut; what little Sasori could see of his blue iris was wide with fear. Blood now flowed from his mouth as a red river. "Danna?" he whispered wetly, almost as if he could read Sasori's thoughts.

Sasori continued to watch his partner for a few more moments, and then turned away in disgust, rasping irritably: "Clean yourself up. You're disgusting."

He left the blonde man to it.

**XxX**

Some undetermined amount of time later, Naomi woke with a gasp. She had just had the most _awful _dream. In it, Deidara, the man who had tried to save her, was a victim of a vicious attack.

She rubbed at her eyes, and was startled to find that her face was wet- not with tears, as it had been previously, but with cold sweat. Her bandages and nightgown were soaked through with sweat. Her brown hair was plastered to her head like an absurd helmet.

It took her quite some time to calm down, her chest heaving uncontrollably, but she _did _get herself under control, and when she did, it was to find Sasori standing at the foot of her bed.

"Sasori!" she cried, startled. Her throat hurt. She hadn't spoken loudly in quite some time. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

His brown eyes glittered with an unknown knowledge; and again, she was reminded of the horrible Sasori, the demon Sasori. In the darkness, his red hair appeared more menacing than usual- it appeared to her to be the colour of blood. His heart canister pulsed queerly. When he did answer her, his voice was cold.

"Watching over you, of course." He moved closer to the bed. Without thinking, Naomi shrank from him, some of the old fear still instilled in her. When he was like this, Sasori could be more terrifying than Hidan could ever be- and that was saying something. "What did you think I was doing?"

"Nothing, nothing," she hastened to reply. He raised a bloody eyebrow. "I'm serious, Sasori! I just had the most awful dream..." she shuddered delicately.

He sat next to her. "Tell me about it," he ordered.

So she did.

**XxX**

She knew.

Somehow, she _knew. _

Sasori didn't like that.

Not one bit.

**XxX**

The next morning, Sasori woke her up early. He appeared to be back to his semi-cheerful self, and he had a surprise for her.

"Since you're very nearly healed, how about taking a walk with me?"

The suggestion was ludicrous, yet Naomi could not deny him. It had been so _long _since she had been out in the outside world, and even if it was with Sasori, she longed to have a taste of fresh air again. It would be nice to tread on the grass and not fear for her life for once.

So she had agreed, and the two of them were now walking across the soft, fluffy green grass, which was wet and glistening with morning dew. They were not far from the Akatsuki base; though Sasori was undoubtedly a very powerful shinobi, he could still not overrule Leader, who had ordered for them not to stray too far from the base. That was just fine with her.

Even if she was being controlled by chakra strings, she could still enjoy the crisp, fresh air.

As the two of them walked along the forest, taking in the beautiful scenery around them (Naomi more than Sasori- he was merely controlling her movements), Naomi could almost pretend that she was out taking a stroll with her deceased brother, Yasuke Tanaka.

**XxX**

The plant-man moved through the earth, his yellow, lamplike eyes scanning the area around him for any disturbance. That was his job; as the spy in Akatsuki, it was Zetsu's responsibility to report any approaching ninja to the other members, and dispatch of them if necessary.

More often than not, he also got to eat them as well.

Today, however, was a queer day. The inedible puppet-man, Sasori of the Red Sand, had taken his precious girl out for a walk, for reasons that were completely beyond the plant-man. He had never done this with any of his other girls before. It was strange that the puppet-man had chosen to take this particular one out today.

Maybe, if she turned out to be a dud like the others, Zetsu would get to taste her flesh.

As he moved through the earth, he sensed movements that were not ordinary. They were human footsteps. Pausing, he began to move towards the vibrations, not wanting to get too close, but close enough so that he could see who they were.

The top of his head broke through the earth, and sunlight pierced the darkness like a sword. The plant-man blinked a few times, to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden harshness that was the sun. Once he was able to see, he saw who the intruders were, and he felt a stab of surprise that was unusual for him.

One, a young, pink-haired kunoichi.

The other?

An old, stumped female with iron-grey hair that Zetsu instantly recognised as Sasori's grandmother.


	9. The Gingerbread Girl: Part II

**Chapter Eight: The Gingerbread Girl: Part II**

Zetsu's eyes widened in amazement. What on earth were these two kunoichi doing here, and so close to the Akatsuki base?

"Who are they?" his white half whispered, his expression bewildered. His black half, the darker, _colder _half, ground his teeth softly in frustration.

"**Isn't it obvious? The girl is from Kakashi's team," **it growled. It was impossible to determine this half's facial expression, but the white half was not stupid- it could tell from the other's tone of voice that Black Zetsu was not happy. Not at all.

"From Konohagakure?" the white half inquired, casting a wary eye over the two kunoichi, who were slowly but steadily making progress towards the base.

"**Yes," **the other half confirmed.

"But what's Lady Chiyo doing here? This is a far distance from the Hidden Sand Village," White Zetsu murmured.

"**Indeed," **Black Zetsu snarled. The plant-like appendages began to close over the head of Zetsu , and he began to slide back into the earth, welcoming the seclusion. Although they were the Akatsuki's spy, they preferred to remain in the ground. It was dark and wet inside the ground, yes, but it was a place of solitude and secrecy that no-one else could breach, except perhaps Deidara, and not even he could go as deep into the earth as Zetsu could. **"We must alert the others, including Sasori." **

"I wish I knew why they were here," White Zetsu said, almost sadly, "I am hungry…"

And so the two halves of Zetsu moved through the earth, to warn Sasori of the danger.

**XxX**

"How are you enjoying the sunlight, my marionette?" Sasori asked huskily, stroking Naomi's cheek with one rough-soft finger. She was too pale. Despite being very nearly healed from the encounter with Hidan, she still looked pale and sickly. And if Sasori was going to grant her eternal beauty, he needed her in pristine condition; at the epitome of health- otherwise the jutsu would not work.

That was the whole point of this little 'outing'- perhaps some sunlight would ease the paleness, the sickness. Because although Sasori was the very best at creating medicines, no remedy could make someone _look_ healthier- it was just not logical. So it was with some frustration that he took her out today- he hid that frustration, though, so as to not startle his little beauty, his _marionette. _She knew about his attack on Deidara. He wasn't sure how, but she _knew. _

He did not like that at all.

Not at _all. _

If she were to find out that he, Sasori, had been the one to attack Deidara that day, then…

She would never be able to forgive him, and, for some reason, that notion disturbed him. He did not want that to happen, for reasons that were beyond him.

Naomi smiled. Not a fake one, either- a full, _proper _smile. For a moment, she looked radiant. "Oh, Sasori, it's just _wonderful," _she said, reaching out to a mossy tree- he allowed her that much. "I can barely remember the last time I was in a forest like this…"

"Tell me about it," Sasori suggested, sitting down on a mossy rock. It was slightly damp, but it made no difference to his wooden body. He had treated it against bothersome problems such as mould and termites a long time ago, and he had made it a habit to treat his puppet body weekly. Not liking the sudden height difference between him and his marionette, he tugged slightly on his chakra strings, and Naomi reluctantly sat down beside him.

It felt strange to speak of her past with Sasori; he had no idea of the pain that she felt when she spoke about it, about her mother, her father, Yasuke, and Momoko. But something had changed between them. She wasn't entirely sure just _what _it was, but there was _something. _A few weeks ago, Sasori would not have bothered to ask; she doubted if he'd cared. Her parents had simple been a barrier against his wishes, one he had overcome by the most brutal method he knew- death. But now, here he was, asking about her past, and he didn't sound bored or like he didn't care. His voice was filled with genuine concern for her.

She wrung her hands, letting out a tiny sigh. "M-my family lived in Kusagakure all their lives," she began, not looking at his young face. This might very well be a trap. After all, this _was _Sasori. But…oh, how muddy and confusing her emotions were! She had no idea if she should tell the truth or not. But, looking up and into his big brown eyes, she decided that the truth couldn't possibly anger him. And, despite everything, he _had _asked. "The grass was always green and beautiful, even in summer. It always rained, you see, and that's why the grass was…"

"Go on," Sasori encouraged softly, watching her intently.

"Green," she finished. "And…I lived in a cottage near the forest, and my b-brother and I would…we would…" Without warning, she burst into tears, her entire skinny frame shuddering in earnest.

**XxX**

Sasori sighed. He had asked her about her past to get her mind off Deidara's attack, but he hadn't expected her to break down like this. This was bad. He knew that she was waiting for him to comfort her, but a part of him, small and insignificant as it was, didn't want to. That part of him wanted to kill her, because she was a wreck, and almost entirely useless to him now.

If she broke down after a simple question, then…

"No," he whispered aloud, balling his wooden hands into fists. It wasn't supposed to be like this. With all the other wenches he had abducted, he had felt nothing. Why should he feel something with this slut? She was hardly any different from the others!

He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. He had no need to breathe, of course, but taking deep breaths helped calm himself down, to think rationally. And he needed to be able to think rationally to be able to make his next move.

When he was sure he was calm, he laid a hand on Naomi's shoulder. He made sure that his touch was feather-light, because incurring pain at this moment would not do the slightest bit of good.

"I shouldn't have asked." His voice was soft; he made sure to fill it with concern and sympathy, emotions he had not felt in a very long time.

Naomi shook her head, sniffling. "It's not your fault," she whispered, drying her eyes with her robe. She laid a fragile-looking hand over his. Her skin was so pale…

"I'm amazed you even care," she said, looking at him carefully.

Sasori waited a moment before answering, to make sure he still had himself under control. "You're my _marionette, _my model for eternal beauty," he said seriously. "Of course I care."

Naomi was about to reply when something large and green erupted from the ground beside them.

**XxX**

She screamed. She couldn't help it.

She hadn't expected a large, plant-like creature to paw its' way out of the ground, grumbling ominously. Jerking her hand off Sasori's, she stumbled back, and saw that the plant-like appendages were _part _of a man, a man with two faces- one was white, and the other was black. As he climbed out of the sizeable hole he had created, Naomi saw that he wore an Akatsuki robe, and she frowned. Who was this? She had never seen a member with large, plant-like appendages before.

Sasori, however, obviously had. Turning around, she saw a frown cross his youthful face. "Zetsu," he said, surprised, "What brings you here?"

Naomi noted with some alarm that while she could see the white half's face, she could not see the black half's. It unnerved her. Zetsu's eyes were yellow and lamplike, and as she stood there, they swept over her, cold and calculating.

"We have news of great importance," the white half said. His voice was soft. "Sasori, we thought we would tell you first-"

"**-Your grandmother and the girl from Kakashi's team are nearby." **The black half's voice was rough-sounding, not unlike Sasori's when he was inside Hiruko.

Sasori's eyes widened. His grip on Naomi's shoulder became suddenly painful, and she yelped with pain. "I see," he said quietly.

"What will you do, Sasori?" the white half inquired.

"**Kill them, and save yourself some trouble," **the black half growled. **"Leader would expect nothing less from you, Sasori." **

"I know," Sasori murmured. "Where are they?"

"Not five miles from here," white Zetsu said.

"**Dangerously close," **black Zetsu added.

As the two Akatsuki members conversed, Naomi's mind was spinning. Sasori had a grandmother? A grandmother who was looking for him? And Kakashi's team? What did all of this mean? Was she in danger? Were they dangerous?

But one thought still remained in her, one that she could not deny:

_This could be her chance to be free._

If Sasori considered these kunoichi to be a threat, then maybe they could help her. If only she could get away from Zetsu and Sasori, then maybe she could…

Sasori's grip on her shoulder suddenly became more painful, and Naomi let out a small scream of pain. Sasori ignored her, but Zetsu's yellow eyes turned briefly in her direction. "She's a pretty one, Sasori," White Zetsu said solemnly.

"**Will we get to eat her?" **Black Zetsu asked. Naomi shrunk away from them as far as Sasori's hand allowed.

"Absolutely not," Sasori growled. "This is my _marionette, _my model for eternal beauty. You won't lay a hand on her, is that understood?" He was suddenly defensive, and Naomi wondered whether she should feel grateful for this or not.

"**I thought you might say that," **the dark half of Zetsu growled, turning his eyes back to the puppet-master, while the white half sighed in disappointment.

Sasori suddenly let Naomi go. Giving him a quick smile, she edged away from the plant-man as far as she dared. He scared her in a way that Hidan had not. The fact that he had asked if he could eat her was all the proof she needed. She knew that if she leant down and smelt his breath, she would smell blood on his lips, and see flesh between his teeth.

Zetsu was the true cannibal of the Akatsuki.

Apparently Zetsu unnerved Sasori as well, or at least made him wary, for the puppet-master re-attached his chakra strings to Naomi's body, and said, "I will take Naomi back to the base. If those kunoichi get any closer in the meantime, you should warn Leader. We don't want any interruptions."

"**Understood," **Black Zetsu growled. The plant-man began to submerge himself back into the soil, the appendages closing smartly over his head.

Before they closed entirely, Naomi distinctly heard the White Zetsu say, "What a disappointment. I've never tasted Hidden Grass blood before…"

Once the plant-man was gone, Sasori exhaled noisily. He was obviously frustrated. It was a good thing he couldn't read minds, otherwise Naomi would be in big trouble. "I don't believe this," he whispered, his voice soft and deadly- he only got like that when he was absolutely _furious, _and, despite the lovely day, Naomi began to feel the slightest inkling of fear creep into her heart. What was he going to do?

"Are you all right, Sasori?" she asked timidly, not really wanting to ask, but feeling obliged to. Sasori's muddy-brown eyes shot up to meet hers, and yes, there was that spark of anger there, it was there all right, but at least this time his anger was not directed at _her. _

"Do I _look _all right?" he snapped, jerking Naomi upright roughly with his chakra strings. Although she was now nearly healed, her body groaned at the sudden- rude- movement. When she did not reply, but merely stared at the ground, his voice became friendlier. "I'm sorry, my _marionette. _I didn't mean to frighten you."

"That's okay," Naomi mumbled, feeling foolish. But, foolish or not, something important was going on, and she wanted some sort of answer. "What's going on, Sasori?"

They began to walk, at a pace that was faster than their stroll, but one that was not an all-out sprint. Naomi trailed behind her master, her green eyes staring directly at the back of Sasori's head. He appeared to be deep in thought, and did not answer for a long time.

When he did reply, however, his reply was curt, and not at all helpful. "I'm taking you back to the Akatsuki base. I have work to do."

Naomi desperately wanted to know more, like who were those two kunoichi that Zetsu had spoken of, but she knew that if she tried to press Sasori further, he might turn on her. He had done it before, and the end result had been a painful night after being 'broken in.' She didn't think that he would do it right this instant, but Sasori was like a snake sometimes- he could turn on you when you least expected it, and it was this fear that kept Naomi from asking any more from her master.

They walked for some time, and all of a sudden, the grass and the sunlight were all too precious for Naomi. She didn't want to leave them behind, for they reminded her of her past- of her home. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to come back outside for a long time, and she didn't want that. The grass and sunlight was not the same as Kusagakure, but it had that same feel to it, the same comfort of being surrounded by nature and life, and she suddenly didn't want to leave it. Gritting her teeth, Naomi did something both very brave and very stupid.

She tried to break free of the chakra strings.

**XxX**

"How much longer do you think it'll be, Lady Chiyo?" Sakura asked. She and the Hidden Sand elder had been chasing the Akatsuki for quite some time, and she was tired. They stood on top of a small hill, the older woman staring into the distance, the pink-haired kunoichi fidgeting at her side.

It took some time for the elderly woman to answer, and in the time that passed, Sakura fully took in her environment for the first time; they were in the middle of a beautiful, leafy forest, not unlike those in the Hidden Leaf village. As she also stared around, at the old, weathered trees, the soft green grass, the sheer beauty of it all, she felt a spark of doubt appear within her. This was too pretty for the Akatsuki base. The information they'd received had to be wrong.

An organisation as evil as the Akatsuki couldn't take up residence in a place as pretty as this- right?

"I'm not sure, Sakura," Chiyo finally answered. Though nearly a head shorter than the girl, Chiyo still exuberated an air of importance, and she carried herself with pride. It was all Sakura could do to keep her back as poker-straight as she could, because she felt that anything else was unacceptable.

A soft breeze ruffled their hair slightly. "My Lady?" Sakura asked timidly. Despite everything, she wished Naruto was here. He could lighten up nearly any situation, and she needed some light-heartedness right now.

The old woman sighed. "He's here. I can feel it."

**XxX**

She dug her heels into the soft, comforting earth, but she was hauled along anyway. She clutched at passing trees, but was pulled past them. She tried everything she could, but Sasori was not having it.

He didn't say a word to her as they marched back towards the Akatsuki base, but the sudden intensity of his chakra strings and their influence on her made it all too clear that he knew what she was trying to do. Either he was too submerged in his own thoughts, or he chose not to care.

It still didn't matter. Naomi still didn't want to leave.

For her, the forest was the reminder of what she had lost; what she longed to have back. To her, the forest felt like a second home; to leave now would be like ripping her heart out. Yes, being surrounded in a forest very much like her home hurt her, yes, it hurt a _lot, _especially because she had no home to go back to, or a family for that matter, but there had been a lot of happy memories there as well, and she didn't want to forget them. Because forgetting them would be like forgetting part of herself.

And she didn't want to do that. Not when she was shrouded in darkness, and the only hope she had of maybe regaining something like her former life were these two kunoichi that that plant-like man had spoken. They were obviously a threat; otherwise why would Sasori bother moving her away at the pace that he was?

And she knew that she needed to reach these kunoichi, if she wanted to ever regain something like her old self back.

So she fought tooth and nail to get control of her own body back, and, even though she tried so hard she was literally sweating and panting at the end of it, he still had control of her. She was weak, she was trembling, and she was covered in a layer of sweat. There would be no getting out of Sasori's grip today.

The puppet-master in mention did not notice Naomi's efforts until they were nearly back at the Akatsuki base. His bloody eyebrows curved into a frown, as he took in her shivering body, her uneven breath, the layer of sheen across her slim frame. He had evidently been deep in thought- yet more evidence that these two kunoichi were people that meant safety for Naomi. His voice was not quite angry, but confused. "Why are you sweating?" he asked. "Are you ill?"

When Naomi shook her head mutely, too exhausted to do anything else, Sasori's frown deepened. "You were trying to run away again- weren't you?" he demanded. His normally lazily-calm brown eyes were wide with sudden fury. His teeth were bared in a nightmarish grimace. "You were going to run away- after _everything that I've done for you!" _

Naomi felt her heart sink. She was close to death; she could almost be kissing it. "That's not what I meant at all," she squeaked, "Sasori-"

"Sasori?" An unfamiliar voice cried out.

What happened next was extraordinary.

As the puppet-master caught sight of the owner of the disembodied voice, his shock was so great, that his chakra strings shattered, and all at once, Naomi had control of her body.

He stared, wide-eyed, at the newcomers.

Naomi, however, wasted no time.

She ran.


End file.
